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reidrum · 4 months ago

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like i would | s.r

pairing: spencer reid x bau!fem!reader

a/n: ok im gonna be honest idk how i feel about this one, i just wanted to finish it and put it out so apologies in advance if its not the best lol. this was requested with the prompt "i bet he can't fuck you like i can"! feedback and reblogs are always appreciated ! thanks for being paitent while i got this one out <3

cw: 18+ minors dni, smut, fingering, munch!spencer, jealous!spencer, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you whack it), reader's bf has a name which i hate in fics but its so hard to write this trope without a name so, afab!reader,

summary: a confession about your sex life makes it's way to the one person you'd hope wouldn't hear, and now he's determined to rectify the way you've been wronged

wc: 4.5k

_____________

you were a great asset to the bau. it was why you were personally recommended by emily to transfer out of sex crimes, the skill set you brought alongside the field training you had proved to be vital for the team’s success lately. you were also a great asset to the team. the bau was notorious for having people turnover fast, and you knew they were apprehensive with newcomers. but you managed to hit it off with every single member, one more than others.

spencer reid did not expect someone like you to join the team. not that he didn’t have faith in your talents and skills, he’s read your file and obviously knows you’re more than qualified to be here. he just did not expect someone who looked like you to join the team, someone who didn’t look beaten down by the horrors of the world and still believed in pots of gold at the end of rainbows.

it didn’t help that you were so beautiful he literally would feel his heart ache when you walked in. like literally, would have to rub his chest to soothe the pain. and as spencer would, he would logic out his feelings with science because that’s all they are, scientific chemical reactions in the body. but what he felt in your friendship, what he felt when he was lucky enough to be in your presence, was something no textbook, theorem, or equation could explain.

so imagine the size of the fucking hammer coming down on his head when he finds out you have a boyfriend who: 1. is not him, and 2. is an actual real life bozo.

apparently you’d been seeing damon from organized crime for about a month now, that’s what he heard from penelope, and you ‘claim’ to be super happy.

spencer doesn’t buy it.

he’s seen the way your ‘relationship’ operates, and he’s got the facts to back it up. damon never lets you get a word in when you’re in group settings, even purposefully talking over you when you’re clearly attempting to speak. majority of the time he’s condescending about your job as a profiler for the bau, saying that him and his team bring down drug rings, but you guys ‘just read their horoscope or whatever and decide the killer.’

it made spencer’s blood boil hotter than the sun. he couldn’t figure out why you put up with it, and why you continue to.

the final straw that broke the camel's back about his disapproval on your relationship choices, is what he overheard on the jet one time on the way back from a case.

the girls were talking in the back of the jet, unaware of spencer’s very awake mind despite his visibly sleeping body.

“i don’t know guys,” you had started with a sigh, “you think it’s weird right?”

“that your own boyfriend won’t go down on you? yeah hon, that’s fucking weird.” emily strikes.

“what did he say exactly?” jj asked.

“he said it increases the risk of STIs on the mouth? and doesn’t like the feeling of thighs crushing his head? and that even with all the … grooming … it’s still unnatural ?”

emily gagged while jj continued, “um…but do you like…on him?”

“yes! he literally won’t touch me unless i do!” you rage whisper.

“i am about to give him an organized crime to deal with,” emily half jokes, “what an asshole, why are you still with him?”

“i don’t know, he’s still nice to me i guess, and maybe i’m just being dramatic. or maybe i’m just not someone people go down on, who knows.” you sigh.

spencer stops listening, he can’t hear you talk so poorly of yourself. not when it’s so far from the truth yet you’ve been indoctrinated to think it’s accurate. how anyone could take advantage of you like that is beyond him, but it did light a fire inside of him and made him determined to help you realize you deserve so much better. if that happens to be him, then who is he to fight that?

—

spencer doesn’t get his chance to prove it to you for another two weeks, when you’d come over to his apartment for a movie night after getting in a fight with damon, your date night being canceled and leading you to spencer’s doorsteps, all dolled up with tears lining your eyes asking to come in.

he doesn’t even have time to be mad at your shithole boyfriend when he’s ushering you inside, offering you to sit on the couch while he goes and put a kettle on the stove for tea.

“i’m really sorry to just show up like this, spence.”

he doesn’t even blink before calling out from the kitchen, “don’t apologize, i’m always here for you. anytime and anywhere.”

you give him a soft smile before returning your gaze to the soft glow of doctor who.

he returns cradling two mugs in one hand and a pack of haribo gummies in the other. spencer doesn’t care for gummies, he’s more of a chocolate guy, but he knows it’s your favorite. so he makes sure to keep a couple bags in his apartment for you.

“my favorite!” you gush. his heart warms at your smile as he sits next to you on the couch. you naturally gravitate towards him to lean your head on his shoulder, and it’s automatic for spencer to wrap an arm around your shoulders to pull you closer.

the whirs and whooshes of the tardis fill the silence for the next hour as you visibly become calmer than when you first arrived. he decides this is a good time to ask, “do you want to talk about it?” as he turns his head to look at you.

“i don’t know,” you say quietly popping another gummy in, “i’m starting to believe it's just a me problem. like, maybe i’m just objectively not a great partner, and that’s why we keep getting in these fights. you know this time, he said i’m not worth all the effort and stress i bring him and that because of me he’s gonna bald at 29? i’m not a scientist like you or anything but even i know that, at least, can’t be my fault.” you end with a chuckle.

spencer knows he should probably comfort you in this time of honesty you’ve graced him with, squash your insecurities like a pesky bug on the windshield, and tell you how beautiful you are in as many words it’ll take for you to believe it (and he knows a lot of words).

but right now? he’s just fucking pissed.

not at you, never at you. at your situation, yes. at that sorry excuse of a partner let alone agent, immensely.

so he can’t help what escapes his mouth next, “why do you let yourself get treated like shit?”

you look up at him in surprise, at both the cursing and what he said, “what?”

“you’re constantly talking about how awful he treats you, and yet everyday you still go back to him knowing it’s going to repeat the next day. i just want to know why you don’t respect yourself enough to not let that happen to you.”

pulling away to sit far from him on the couch, you start letting the annoyance show on your face, “spencer, that’s not fair at all. you think it’s my fault? do you really think i want to feel like this?”

“yes!” he shouts, “you seem like you do with how much you crawl back to him everytime, and everytime you let him back in.”

“okay, i think i should go,” you stand up and grab your things, “it was a mistake to come here, goodbye spencer.”

he grabs your wrist before you can get too far, “i just have to know, what is it?”

“what’s what spence, let me go.”

“what keeps you going back to him, it can’t be because you love him. it’s obviously not because you’re happy with him,” he lets out.

“you don’t know anything about me or my life, spencer!” you snatch away your arm and start heading towards the door.

“it’s definitely not because the sex is good, because i know it’s not.”

any emotion you had on your face wipes away like an etch a sketch, staring blankly at the door, hearing the man you’ve harbored a crush on since you started at the bureau years ago, telling you he knows your sex life is abysmal.

your voice comes out small, “h- how would you know that?” you don’t dare to turn around, knowing that if you did any resolve you held onto, any denial of emotions you’ve stripped from yourself would come pouring out like a broken dam.

the couch groans at a loss of weight, and the floorboards creak closer and closer to you.

“i heard you, on the jet.”

you’re especially glad he can’t see the blood draining from your face. if your heart already wasn’t at your feet, it’s most likely six feet under at this point.

he heard you?

“when you were talking with the others about how he doesn’t reciprocate, and won’t sleep with you unless you get him off.” he continues.

the room is getting hotter by the millisecond, temperature about to be comparable to the sun’s core. it’s one thing to have just anyone hear the intimate details of your life, but spencer? the man to which you’d been using damon to get over?

the only sound that can be heard is your increasingly heavy breathing, and spencer feels like he’s caught a fish on his line and is ready to reel you in as he inches closer to you.

“you’re okay with that? not being taken care of in the way you deserve?”

his presence is merely nanometers behind you, the ghost of his fingers looking for landing on your hips. when you don’t move away, and he hears your breath hitch at the contact, he sets his hands more earnestly on your curves as he leans down to the nape of your neck.

“just don’t know,” kiss, “how anyone,” kiss, “wouldn’t want,” kiss, “to give you everything.” kiss.

your head lolls back onto his firm chest as he whispers in your ear, “cat got your tongue, sweetheart? you were so mouthy not even five minutes ago. be honest with me, has he even ever made you come?”

the whimpers escape you without warning and you find a single decibel of voice to speak, “spencer…” hoping the whine would dissuade him to let it go.

“uh uh, i asked you a question,” his arm tightens around the front of your waist to press back and fully feel him, “answer me.”

your lexicon has depleted except for the one word you know he’s desperately waiting for you to say, and the one he knows is the answer. yet you know the second it leaves your mouth, everything changes. and maybe you’re okay with that.

“no.”

spencer hums lowly, “has anyone made you come?”

“no.” you say again, softer this time.

“should we change that?”

this was not what you expected when you came to see him after your failed night out. the amount of processing you’d done in the last year to essentially not be thinking about spencer 24/7 was extensive. and you were ready to render it all useless in a matter of seconds.

so you let the strap of your bag fall down your arm and hit the ground with a thud, and finally turned around to look the good doctor in his eyes. while his voice held traces of anger and frustration, you came to see his eyes were full of reassurance and comfort, the spence you always knew to prioritize your wellbeing more than anything.

he looked down at you and slid his hand to up to cup your jaw, and he hears the smallest murmur, so delicate yet so full of want leave your lips.

“yes.”

that was all spencer needed to catch your lips in a heated kiss, moving your body to the closest wall as he places a hand behind your head to protect you from the wall’s impact while the other pins your waist to the wall.

you move your arms to wrap around his neck and keep him pinned to you with no escape, like he’d ever want to. his lips detach from yours and make a descent towards your neck again, taking deliberate effort to locate the sensitive spots.

he finds one just behind your ear and spends time sucking and bruising up the spot, relishing in the soft whimpers leaving your mouth. while you’re lost in the sensation on your neck, you don’t notice spencer move one of his hands closer to the button of your pants, effortlessly (and impressively) opening it up.

detaching from your neck with a heavy pant, he moves back to lean against your forehead with his own and look you in the eyes to ask, “is this okay? we can stop if you want, i didn’t mean to be so forw-“

“please don’t stop.”

he searches your eyes for any conflict and finds none, considering it the okay to continue his downward descent. he returns his lips to the second home they’ve made on your lips and starts to push your pants down over the curve of your ass, leaving your panties on.

the flash of purple lace underwear glares at him when he glances down, and suddenly he remembers what got him in this position in the first place.

“were you wearing this for him?” he lets out condescendingly, “you really think he deserved to see you like this?”

spencer’s fingers brush against your front, leaving your heavy breaths hitting him in the face. you can’t think of anything to say. hell, you’re not even sure if you know any words right now. all you can offer is a pathetic moan, and spencer doesn’t think that’s enough.

“come on, don’t get all shy now. what were you expecting him to even do, hm? thought you said he didn’t care about making you feel good.” he taunts as his middle finger traces the outlines of your cunt through your panties.

you shudder at the contact, leaning your head back against the wall as he refuses to break eye contact. he’s waiting for you to say something, raising his eyebrows expectantly as he’s slowed down his movements on you. taking a shallow breath you open your mouth, “h-, he didn’t care, just thought if i ke-, kept looking nice he’d wanna, fuck, do something.” you moan out.

“and did he?” he moved his hand back up to slowly slip into your panties.

his finger dips all the way down to your entrance to gather your wetness and spread it all the way back up to your clit, your mouth dropping open as you let out a whiny, “no.”

“what a shame.” he dips a finger into your hole and you let out a pornographic moan.

he drags his finger in and out slowly making sure to watch your face as it contorts in pleasure. once he feels you’ve gotten used to it he slips in a second finger, increasing the pace and moving his thumb to circle your clit again.

“oh fuck,” you cry.

“baby, you’re so tight.” he whispers. the way you clenched around his two digits made feel almost pussy drunk, and he wasn’t even inside you yet. he starts to wonder if damon was doing anything really to prioritize your pleasure, and it only just worked him up more. he felt more determined to bring you to finish, so he picks up the pace and increases the pressure on your clit.

you drop your head to his shoulder no longer being able to hold yourself up anymore, the sensation of his fingers on you taking over, loose whimpers and moans falling out of your mouth every other second.

“spencer…shit, i’m gonna come…”

“let go for me, baby.” he whispers in your ear.

the pleasure barrels through you like a wrecking ball, knocking the wind out of your mind and body. your legs turn into jelly and you almost fall before spencer holds you up. you try to regulate your breathing into his shoulder, hoping to calm down before you look up and meet his eyes again.

he makes that choice for you when he gingerly lifts your head up, his eyes silently asking if you’re okay. you don’t even bother responding before softly pressing your lips to his again, hoping he can feel your response to his silent question.

the kiss picks up in urgency, and soon his hands are back to exploring your body again. they slide down to the backs of your thighs while he murmurs a small, “jump.” and lifts you to wrap your legs around his waist. without breaking the kiss he walks you both to his bedroom and places you on his bed with care.

his fists flank you on both sides as he leans down to kiss you, and he moves further down kissing along your neck and chest. you reach down to the bottom of your top to pull it over your head, leaving you in the purple lacy bra that matches your panties.

he detaches from you and stands at full height, gazing at the sight of you spread out on his bed with your hair framing you like a halo. he can’t even help himself when he says, “you look so beautiful, angel.” the blush rises to your cheeks, and you beckon him to come back down to which he happily obliges.

spencer moves down further towards your hips, and his lips ghost over the lace band spreading along your waist. his fingers play with the fabric and he moves his face to be directly in line with your clothed cunt. your breathing gets heavy, and you anticipate what he’s about to do.

“wait, you don’t, you don’t have to do that, spence. i already came.” starting to feel a bit guilty at the man above you potentially feeling obligated to do this, as you realize that if he heard you on the jet, he heard about the one thing damon refused to do for you.

“sweetheart, i’d love to keep making you feel good as long as you let me, okay? you gonna let me make you feel good?” he breaths, pressing chaste kisses to your inner thighs.

you give a slight nod and he gently pulls your panties off your legs, marveling at the light glistening off your cunt. he kisses up the plush of your thighs before pausing right where you need him the most. you look down at him and meet his unwavering eyes full of love.

he places a long kiss to your core before licking a long stripe. you moan out languishly, the euphoric feeling taking over every sense in your body. you’re unable to comprehend how you went so long without feeling this, it almost feels criminal. and the way spencer was eating you out, felt like this was doing it for him too even though you were the one getting pleasured.

it turned you on even more to know he was getting off on how much you were enjoying this. your head was spinning off into another realm, and the only thing tethering you to this reality was the grip of your hands in his hair. his tongue made circles and shapes all over your cunt before dipping down to thrust into your hole.

your thighs shake and threaten to clamp shut on his head, and he uses his wide hands to wrap around your thighs to hold them in place. “oh my god fuck, that feels so good…spence…please..” you’re not even sure what you’re begging for, but of course, spencer does when he adds a finger into your hole and moves his tongue to focus back on your clit. the combined sensations were enough to tip you over the edge for the second time tonight, your release glistening on his chin as he moved back up to kiss your lips again.

your heavy panting tries to bring you back down from your high, a mix of sweat and the taste of you lingering everywhere.

spencer smooths your hair back as he moves his body to lie next to you, “i think, damon’s a fucking loser, if he doesn’t think that’s worth doing.” he says between pants.

you hum in agreement, or just in acknowledgement at whatever he said since you’re still reeling from the endorphin release. hiking your leg over his body to straddle him, you clumsily reach for his belt and attempt to undo the clasps to reach his growing member. you pull his pants down and palm him through his boxers, reveling in the broken moans falling from his mouth. you start inching downwards when spencer grabs you by the forearms and flips you over so you’re back on the bed staring up at him.

“not tonight, sweetheart. it’s about you right now, wanna make sure you know what you deserve.”

“but…” you pathetically respond.

“i don’t know what that neanderthal tells you, but sex is not transactional. i think if i ever see that guy again, i’d punch him for making you think otherwise.”

the words go straight to your core, turning you on even more. spencer takes note of how your pupils widen and your chin tilts up towards him.

“besides,” he presses his crotch to yours, “the sex wasn’t even that good with him, right?”

you moan out again, unable to find words to satisfy his question. he leans back up and off the bed to fully remove his boxers and you finally get a good look at what was underneath.

holy fuck, he was huge. you propped yourself on your forearms to get a better look at him, and watched as he lazily stroked himself while he sauntered back over to you. the image was so lewd, you hoped you could borrow some of his eidetic memory so you could hold on to this moment forever.

his face held a smug smirk at your awestruck one, and he felt his ego inflate even higher, “by the looks of your reaction, i’m guessing he’s never been much of a, challenge, for you in bed has he?”

you dumbly shake your head no, “definitely not as big as you.” you whisper, more to yourself than him.

his smirk grows wider, “don’t worry, baby, i’ll take real good care of you.” he says as he climbs over you to line himself up to your entrance.

you feel him slowly start to push in, the sensation of being split open growing bigger by the second. your brows furrow and your eyes are shut tight as you wait for the pressure to turn into pleasure.

if spencer thought you around his fingers had him pussydrunk, what he’s feeling now has to be close to pussy poisoning or something because he cannot think of anything in existence that feels as good as the walls of your cunt clenching around his cock. it’s taking everything in him to not break, to just fuck you senseless and reach his peak.

once his hips are flush with yours and he’s fully settled within you, he waits for you to give him the okay to move.

you, on the other hand, have never felt more full ever. damon was not nearly this big, nor has any other guy you’ve been with. it’s a bit of a miracle on how it fit inside you, and how it felt better than anything you could’ve imagined. the pressure and slight pain subsides, and with a slight nod spencer takes the cue to start moving.

the first thrust has you both moaning out in harmony together, and he sets the pace nice and slow so as to make sure you’re comfortable.

but it's not enough for you, you need him to fuck you.

“spence…harder.”

he stills at your word, leaning up so he’s perpendicular to you.

“whatever you say, princess.”

and he starts pounding into you, hips rutting at a pace you can’t even keep up with. the whimpers and moans gush out as the familiar coil begins to build within you. he taps your leg to lift it up over his shoulder to allow him deeper access, and he’s able to reach that one spot you’d heard about from all your friends, on reddit, in movies. you had no idea this type of feeling even existed, and spencer was hitting it with precision every single thrust over and over.

“fuck,” you whine.

“that feel good, baby?” he teases, “the way you’re squeezing my cock so tight, i doubt that fucker ever made you feel like this, huh?”

your tits bounce with every thrust, and the deepened angle has you reaching your climax fast. spencer feels it too and drops his head to whisper in your ear.

“i bet he’s never fucked you like this,” he continues his taunt, “he’d never be able to fuck you like i can, make you come three times in one night like i can.”

you whimper, “spencer,”

“say it, sweetheart. say no one’s ever fucked you like me.”

he was trying to kill you, death during intercourse would be a crazy way to go out but it’s a fate you’d be willing to accept. nonetheless, you comply.

“never ever, fuck, been fucked like you, baby.”

spencer has never felt more satisfied, “good girl, now come.” and with a final thrust he lets you reach your peak as he releases himself into you.

in the midst of groans he gingerly pulls out of you and you whimper at the loss.

the next few minutes are just filled with the sounds of yours and his heavy breathing, before spencer leans over to you, “was that too much?”

still in your daze you let out a soft giggle, “spencer, i think you’ve ruined all men for me.”

he smiles back, “i meant what i said, damon’s really stupid if he’s not willing to do all that for you.”

you intertwine your hand with his, “you know, i never really liked him anyway. i was just using him to get over you.”

“me?” he says incredulously.

you nod, “i didn’t know if you would’ve felt the same so i just tried to move on to someone else, stupid i know, but i don’t know it made sense then.”

he pulls you closer to rest in the crevice of his chest, “i have been into you since the day you walked into the bullpen, and letting you slip through my fingers is a mistake i will never make again.”

you hug him tightly before groaning out loud, “shit, i have to tell damon it’s over now don’t i.”

“i mean, i could tell him if you want.”

“spence, no. i think you might kill him.” you laugh, “i can do it, i just don’t want him to get all ‘organized crime’ on me.”

“just tell him i have a gun.”

“so does he?”

“mine’s bigger.” he smirks.

you roll your eyes, “well, yes.”

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x oc

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whumptober · 1 year ago

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Whumptober 2023

Welcome to Whumptober 2023 — the sixth year running!

COMPLETIONISTS/PARTICIPANT BADGES CAN BE FOUND HERE

To those of you who participated last year, welcome back! To everyone joining this year, welcome!

Please make sure to read the Event Info carefully, as most of your questions will be answered there already. For everything else, you are welcome to come to our ask box or ask questions in our Discord server here.

This year’s AO3 Collection can be found here.

And this years playlist can be found here.

There are 139 prompt options in total this year - this is including the alternatives list! A special thanks goes out to those who took part in our trope vote back in July. From the 1526 responses to our list of 223 tropes, we looked through the popularity results, as well as your honourable mentions, and were able to produce this years prompts list. Stay tuned, as we will be posting some of the results at a later date!

We’re very excited to see the community come together once more and be a wild, chaotic bunch of creators and consumers of whump. Go wild with the prompts, and support your fellow creators - we wish you all the fun!

Best of luck and happy whumping,

Mods Vanne, Yenn, Kitty and Surro

(All 31 Themes + Prompts, Event Information and FAQs are posted below the cut!)

Whumptober 2023 Prompt List

No. 1: “But now this room is spinning while I’m trying just to fill in all the gaps.”

Safety Net | Swooning | “How many fingers am I holding up?”

No. 2: “I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back.”

Thermometer | Delirium | “They don't care about you.”

No. 3: “Like crying out in empty rooms; with no-one there except the moon.”

Journal | Solitary Confinement | “Make it stop.”

No. 4: “I see the danger, It’s written there in your eyes.”

Cattle Prod | Shock | “You in there?”

No. 5: “You better pray I don't get up this time around.”

Debris | Pinned Down | “It's broken.”

No. 6: “Do or die, you’ll never make me; Because the world will never take my heart.”

Recording | Made to Watch | “It should have been me.”

No. 7: " “I paced around for hours on empty; I jumped at the slightest of sounds.”

Alleyway | Radio Silence | “Can you hear me?”

No. 8: “I’ve got soul, but I’m not a soldier.”

Overcrowded ER | Outnumbered | “It’s all for nothing.”

No. 9: “Learning everything ain't what it seems, that's the thing about these days.”

Polaroid | Mistaken Identity | “You're a liar.”

No. 10: “Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?”

Broken Phone | Stranded | “You said you'd never leave.”

No. 11: “All the lights going dark and my hope’s destroyed.”

Animal trap | Captivity | “No one will find you.”

No. 12: “I haven't slept in days but who's counting?”

Red | Insomnia | “I’m up, I’m up.”

No. 13: “It comes and goes like the strength in your bones.”

Cold Compress | Infection | “I don’t feel so good.”

No. 14: “Feed me poison, fill me ‘till I drown.”

Flare | Water Inhalation | “Just hold on.”

No. 15: “I don't need you to help me I can handle things myself.”

Makeshift Bandages | Suppressed Suffering | “I’m fine.”

No. 16: “Would you lie with me and just forget the world?”

Gurney | Flatline | “Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

No. 17: “You’re the lump in my throat and the knot in my chest.”

Collar | Touch Aversion | “Leave me alone.”

No. 18: “I tend to deflect when I’m feeling threatened.”

Blindfold | Tortured For Information | “Hit them harder.”

No. 19: “I’ll take one final step, all you have to do is make me.”

Floral Bouquet | Psychological | “I’m not as stupid as you think I am.”

No. 20: “People don’t change people, time does.”

Blanket | Found Family | “You will regret touching them.”

No. 21: “See the chains around my feet.”

Vows | Restraints | “Don't move.”

No. 22: “They never saw us coming, ‘til they hit the floor.”

Glass Shard | Vehicular Accident | “Watch out!”

No. 23: “It’s gonna get me by the end of the night.”

Shadows | Stalking | “Who’s there?”

No. 24: “I’ve got a head full of chemicals; mouth full of ridicule.”

Goodbye Note | Neglect | “I thought they were with you.”

No. 25: “You’re not delivering a perfect body to the grave.”

Storm | Buried Alive | “They’re not breathing!”

No. 26: “Sometimes I get so tired; I don’t even know myself.”

Seeing Double | Working To Exhaustion | “You look awful.”

No. 27: “You drew stars around my scars; But now I’m bleeding.”

Matches | Scars | “Let me see”

No. 28: “We might not make it to the morning; so go on and tell me now.”

Bloody Knife | Sacrifice | “You'll have to go through me.”

No. 29: “I only sink deeper the deeper I think.”

Scented Candle | Troubled Past Resurfacing | “What happened to me?”

No. 30: “It’s okay, just to say, ‘I’m not okay’.”

Borrowed Clothing | Bridal Carry | “Not much longer...”

No. 31: “I thought that I was getting better.”

Emptiness | Setbacks | “Take it easy.”

Alternatives List:

Betrayal

Aftermath of Failure

Brass Knuckles

Decoy

Body Modification

Playing Cards

Examination

Hunting

Drugging

Shaking

Panic

Broken

Miscommunication

Lab Rat

Reluctant Whumper

Event Info & Rules

~ Please read our extensive event info posts before sending us an ask ~

WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. The 'theme' of each day is the line of lyrics.

The prompts are merely to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don’t have to include the exact wording of prompts into your work). Feel free to run rampant on interpretation. For example, if the prompt is "flame", you could create something with reference to a candle/campfire, your character could have suffered a burn, or the flame could be related to the 'spark' of a relationship. It's truly up to you!

In total, there are 4 prompts for each day: there's lyrics, an object, a trope and a line of dialogue to choose from. We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks.

Creators can PRODUCE work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, photo/video/audio edits, paper crafts and elaborate recommendation lists (not just a list of links). Creators can PARTICIPATE as much or as little as they want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.

When uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag the with:

#whumptober2023 …..(the event tag)

#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(day number)

#lyric, #bruises, #stabbing, …..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)

#fandom or #OC, … (ironman, originalcontent, oc …)

#medium …..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)

#teeth, #gore tw, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Add "tw" AFTER the trigger/content warning. )

#nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)

#your own tags go here

PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the official @whumptober-archive blog. They must be tagged in the order above. An elaborate post about our tagging system can be found [here]

Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.

Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month. A form will be published at the beginning of November asking you to tell us if you completed the event. You do not need to post anything you have created, we rely on trust and we will not check this.

Questions not addressed in one of our many event info posts can be directed to this blog. We will not answer any questions that have been answered in the FAQs or rules already.

Frequently Asked Questions

Q. How does this year’s prompt list work? What do I have to choose?

You can create something based on:

The overall theme/lyric of the day

Prompt 1, 2 or 3

One or several of the alternative prompts

A combination of the above

Q. Is [specific anything] allowed?

When in doubt: JUST DO IT!

Q. Do I have to do all 31 days?

Participate as much or little as you like! Just be sure to tag your posts properly (ex. #no.7, #radio silence). If you create works for 31 total theme days you will become a completionist. But apart from that, there are no repercussions if you don’t fill prompts for each day.

Q. Can I post early/late?

Yes, you can post whenever you want. We will only reblog posts during October, but you can use our prompts all year round. The day you post will only affect your probability of being reblogged.

Q. Will you reblog my post?

Due to the sheer number of content posted during Whumptober we can’t promise to reblog every single post. We will make a random selection trying to capture a wide variety of content. The following will increase your chances at being reblogged:

tag your post properly

post within 2-3 days of the theme you want to fill: if you fill the prompt for Day 1 your chances of being reblogged during October 1st to 3rd are highest and will go towards zero afterwards.

Q. What if I don’t understand a prompt/theme?

Send us an ask! We’re happy to help with wild, unhelpful clarifications or brainstorming. That being said, the themes are entirely up for interpretation. Don’t take them too literally. For example: You can be choking on a cherry, someone else can choke you or you could be choked up on emotions, etc.

Q. What kind of content can I make? Can it be NSFW?

This is a MIXED MEDIA event! You can write fic, post meta, doodle or paint, create a gifset or photo edit, link a song, or get crafty with video - anything goes. As for NSFW, make what you like, we just hope that you’ll tag your work accordingly so that others participating in the event can stay safe.

Q. Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges?

Absolutely, as long as the other challenges allow it too.

Q. Can I upload/repost my Whumptober content to other social media platforms?

Of course! You can post your own content wherever you like (or you can opt to not publish it at all). Additionally we’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there. It can be accessed here. The tumblr blog @whumptober-archive is the official archive, so please respect the boundaries of any closeted whumpers in your social circle.

Q. Can I use prompts to write a new chapter for an existing fic?

Yes.

Q. An existing fic I am currently writing contains many of the Whumptober prompts, can I use it?

If you are actively writing this fic at the moment with the Whumptober prompts in mind, yes. If you’ve previously posted something that checks the boxes, we ask that you not include it retroactively for this current year. You can, however, add new chapters relating to one or more of the prompts.

Q. What kind of characters can I write for?

Fandom characters, OC characters, human, furry, alien, cyborg, RPF, whoever you like. You can use the generic “whumpee” character or have specific ones.

Q. Does it have to take place in a specific fandom?

No, you can create works for your own worlds or for fandoms or for both. You can also create more generic or pan-fandom works. You can do cross-overs or use OCs, whatever you want.

Q. Can I use a prompt multiple times?

Yes, but it only counts once towards being a completionist.

Q. If I’m not comfortable with one day’s prompts can I use a prompt of a different day as a substitute and still be a completionist?

No, you can’t exchange prompts for different days. However, if all four prompts of a specific day make you uncomfortable, we have created an alternate prompts list that you can draw from. You can exchange any prompt with these, but please make sure not to use them twice.

Q. Where can I post my work?

Post where and how you want. You don’t have to (cross)post it to Tumblr or at all. Just keep in mind if it’s not on Tumblr we will not be able to add it to the blog archive.

Q. Can I start posting early?

You can, but this is an October event and wouldn’t it be more fun with everyone doing it at the same time? That being said, you can post early, but we won’t be reblogging any work predating October 1st.

Q. Do I have to finish a fic I started/can I post WIP’s?

Yes you can post WIPs. And you’re not obligated to finish it in October for it to count towards being a completionist.

Q. Is co-writing allowed?

Yes, absolutely, and it would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you.

Q. Do I have to create 31 standalone pieces to be considered a completionist or can I write one continuous story?

One continuous story is fine. The challenge is to write something for 31 prompts. If that’s spread over 31 fics or just one, you are still considered a completionist. (The same goes for every other media you choose.)

Q. Is there a min/max limit on word count?

There is no limit.

Q. Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many?

No limit and combine as many as you’d like.

Q. Is a hc/angst/emotional whump focus ok?

Of course! We are not going to establish a threshold for whumpiness. If you think it’s whumpy enough, then it’s whumpy enough. It can be physical, psychological, emotional, or any combination of the three.

Q. What’s considered nsfw?

See this post

Q. What is whump?

Typically the genre includes situations where a fictional character is hurt, be it emotionally, psychologically, or physically. Fanlore provides information here.

Q. My interpretation of the prompt isn’t whumpy at all, does that count?

If you don’t think your interpretation is whumpy, then it doesn’t count for Whumptober. Remember that whump comes in many forms, though, and that we don’t have a whump-checker or a threshold for how much whump needs to be included. If you think your interpretation contains enough whump to count, then it does.

Q. Can I start working on the prompts before October?

Absolutely! That’s why we post the prompts a month in advance. We recognise how difficult it can be creating for 31 days in “real time” so feel free to start creating early!

Q. How do I tag triggers?

tw at the end of the word, ex. #gore tw

Q. Do I have to use your tags?

Yes, if you want your work archived on the blog. If not, feel free to use whatever tags you want.

Q. Does combining prompts count towards completion?

Yes

Q. Can we @ you?

Yes but we mostly rely on the #whumptober2023 tag.

Q. Is there anything we are absolutely not allowed to write?

There are no rules, but please make sure to properly tag your trigger warnings. And keep in mind Tumblr’s policies if you are posting it here (or the policies for whatever site you use).

Q. Where can I go for brainstorming help?

Here on Discord or come into our ask box.

Q. My characters are minors, is that ok?

Yes, but as with everything else, use clear and descriptive tags.

Q. Can I cross post on other blogs?

Yes, multiple platforms and blogs are perfectly acceptable. You can also post different works to different accounts under different names, without posting them everywhere at once.

Note: This is a creation challenge, please don’t repost your old work under our tags (unless it’s been changed or edited for the event).

Thanks for reading, and happy whumping!

#whumptober2023 #whumptober 2023 prompts list #whumptober #prompts list #long post

7K notes · View notes

mariasont · 5 months ago

Note

What if I put an insane little idea in your head and let it bounce around? Mid seasons (7/8 ish?) Spencer with a kinnda sorta fangirl? She just started at the BAU and it’s not that she’s weird about him but she does have like 3 of his papers memorized down to the letter and she “possibly quoted him on her college application essay” (it’s the literal conclusion).

Like she’s just this little ball of excitement and he has no clue what to do when the team is like “ask her out for the love of god and stop making heart eyes when she lets you nerd out”

Sorry if this makes no sense it’s 2:30 in the morning

FANGIRL - S.R

a/n: AHHHHH BECAUSE WHAT IF I JUST SMOOCHED YOU

loved, loved, LOVED this idea and writing it! you are amazing <3

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: reader being a fangirl for reid because WHO WOULDNT BE UGH

wc: 1.2k

"Dr. Reid, hi, it's such an honor. I'm the new agent."

You give him your name, hand extended out to him, bouncing off the balls of your feet. There was a badge pinned to your shirt, the clip attached to it gleaming in the fluorescent light, which despite its usual severity, seemed to soften around you.

Spencer comes to a standstill, his coffee suspended mid-sip, documents wrinkled in his hands as he assesses you. You are pretty. exceedingly so, but he's having trouble processing it, his mind still shrouded in the remnants of sleep.

He blinks away his surprise. "Nice to meet you. Hotch must've briefed you about the team, I assume?"

He adjusted the heap of papers to under his arm, freeing his hand to meet yours. The softness he encountered prompted a momentary pause, awakening a sudden urge to not let go. However, he promptly set aside the thought, releasing your hand with a concealed hesitation.

You fiddled with your earlobe, you shot him a sheepish smile. "Yeah, Hotch did, but I already knew a bit about you. I've always been a fan of your work. I mean, not like a fan per se, because that would be weird, right? But I've read all your papers, and they're just... they're brilliant, honestly."

Spencer was clearly caught off guard, his brows leaping upwards as he surveyed you. You weren't lying--that much was clear to him. He could see it in the way you met his eyes with an enthusiasm so bright it was nearly blinding.

"My work? You're actually familiar with it?"

A soft giggle bubbled from you, a sweet sound that seemed to momentarily leave him winded. He placed his coffee on the desk, leaning back slightly.

"Oh, definitely. Your research on chemical composition analysis in narcotics? I've read it so many times I could probably recite it in my sleep."

He considered the possibility of you exaggerating. He took great pride in his work and (without sounding too cocky) he was well aware of its significance and contribution to his field. However, there's a difference between knowing your work is recognized and encountering someone who has internalized it to such a degree--especially someone like you. He suddenly felt a touch of self-consciousness.

"I'm sorry, that was too much, right? I promised I'd play it cool, and then I saw you and... well, it's all just really surreal," you said before gesturing vaguely towards the bullpen. "Anyway, I'm going to go, uh, find my desk."

You hurried away before he could refute your words, head bowed. He felt like an ass.

The day threw him off balance. His contributions to the team lacked their usual insight, his mental gears turning more slowly. And for some inexplicable reason, he found himself preoccupied with thoughts of you. He attempted to rationalize it as a reaction to your interest in his work, a level of admiration that was a rare find. Unlike the formal niceties from others, your excitement about his work, about him, stood out.

He tried to latch onto Hotch's deductions about the unsub, willing his intellect to snap to attention and offer up a decent theory. However, a glance in your direction derailed his efforts. You were bent over the desk, your hands animatedly navigating through the papers. He was happy to see your enthusiasm was there despite his lack thereof earlier.

"Based on the geographic profiling and the choice of victims, it looks like the unsub has a background in urban planning."

Emily nods, "Good theory. What led you to that?"

He watches the anxious flicker in your eyes, glancing towards him, hands clasped together as you incline your head his way.

"Actually, I read about a similar case in Dr. Reid's paper on The Spatial Patterns of Serial Offenses." It strikes him then--he hasn't yet invited you to use his first name, adding another tick to the ever-growing list of ways he feels he's been inadvertently discourteous. "The clustering of crime scenes near arterial routes suggests the offender leverages the urban grid to facilitate escape and avoid detection. Embarrassingly enough, that was the topic of my college application essay."

Spencer was momentarily speechless (not something that happened often), his mind racing through the physiological response to shock--catecholamine release, vagal tone alterations, even transient arrhythmias--mirroring the way his heart seemed to skip a beat. You really did have his work memorized.

"That's, uh, right," he said, his voice gaining momentum. "By leveraging the urban grid, the offender not only evades capture but also creates a psychological terrain of control."

Hotch nodded in agreement, turning your attention to a series of photographs.

Before Spencer even looked her way, he could sense Garcia's stare, and as he turned, she prodded him with her elbow, smirking. "Seems like she's quite the match for you, doesn't she?"

"Huh? What? No, I mean--she's my coworker, and besides, she's much younger." Spencer was quite sure he sounded anything but convincing.

Garcia raises an eyebrow, shaking her head. "I meant in terms of smarts, but oookay, Spencer."

She walked out with a bounce in that definitely hadn't been there earlier, and Spencer was left with a red face.

He had every intention of pulling you aside, to apologize for earlier, to reassure that he didn't find you odd or weird, and to admit that he was genuinely flattered. But it appeared that every time he had a chance to make it to your desk, you had vanished, or were in deep conversation with JJ, or inside Hotch's office.

It was a relentless cycle that persisted until the end of the day, when everyone began to leave--except for you, who remained still firmly planted at your desk, fervently jotting notes into your notebook.

Absorbed in your work, you didn't notice his approach until he cleared his throat.

"Hey," he said softly.

Startled, you flinched, prompting him to immediately feel like shit. Strike three. You laughed off the shock when you realized it was him, moving your notebook aside, offering him your undivided attention.

"Sorry, Dr. Reid, hi! How's it going? Is there something I can do for you?"

"I thought I'd see if you needed help with anything, and you can call me Spencer, if you want." He glanced at his watch. "Are you still working?"

You pushed a piece of hair from your face and nodded towards the formidable pile of forms.

"Spencer, okay," you said, like you were testing it out, "and just sorting through a mountain of onboarding paperwork."

He nodded, hesitating slightly before speaking. "Listen, I need to apologize for earlier."

You tilted your head. "What for?"

"I think I wasn't as welcoming as I intended to be."

"That's okay, I know I was a bit intense."

He shook his head. "No, you weren't. It's just... It's rare that my work gets much attention. I'm happy you appreciated it. If there's a specific topic that you're more interested in, maybe I could explain more about it sometime?"

You glanced down at your hands, trying to hide the smile that was blooming there. You weren't successful. When you looked back up, Spencer felt a little bit awestruck by your eyes, the flecks of color that he could now see clearly.

"I'd love that. Maybe over coffee?" you suggested.

"Yeah, sure." He could feel the heat rushing up his neck.

He reluctantly parted ways, leaving you to your paperwork, and as he approached the elevator, Penelope was there.

"You know, sugar, maybe I did mean quite the match in a romantic way. So, are you going to ask her out, or shall I play Cupid?"

He blushed. "I think she might have just beat me to it."

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @freyy253 @broadwaytraaaaash @r-3dlips @m-indkiller @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @reiderrambles

join my taglist here!

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x fem reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid drabble

1K notes · View notes

indecisivemuch · 9 months ago

Text

Cupids in Converses

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: Valentine's was rolling up. You and Luke played Cupid on Percy and Annabeth. But what if playing matchmakers gave both you guys and your unspoken feelings the nudge that you guys have always needed? (Fluff, friends to lovers, happy ending)

Warning: sort of cliché, but it's Valentines so.

Note: Valentines got me in the mood of writing something rom-com-ish. Let's just assume Luke wears red converses that looks like Maia in the show. Also, I've been incredibly busy so I kinda rushed through this one to post it on time for Valentines.

Word count: 4.1k (whoops)

February has always filled the air with some sort of sugary chemical. Everything seemed sweeter like a pink filter had been put over the world. Some may dislike the upcoming February holiday, but it was perhaps one of your favorite times of the year.

Why? You were somehow blessed with the skills of getting people together and nudging them just enough to cross the line they needed to. So far, you have managed to help six couples get together. With Valentine’s right around the corner, the urge to play cupid grew to the point it was itching your hands.

“Well, compared to the Chimera on Monday, Medusa on Sunday, could have been a lot worse,” Percy was quickly interrupted by Annabeth.

“Medusa was Saturday.”

“I thought Sunday?”

“No monsters on Sunday. Monday, you died in a river.” You squint your eyes at the conversation that Percy and Annabeth were having. The familiar bells rang in your head; you could practically hear them roaring at you.

“Right, so Medusa on Saturday…”

“Woah, guys, what’s this?” Luke interrupted. “When did you turn into an old married couple?” Percy and Annabeth both grew slightly flustered at the Hermes counselor’s words. Muttering a few things here and there, the two kids quickly excused themselves and walked off from you and Luke just to avoid the topic in general. You slowly turned towards Luke and peered up at him.

“Surely…” you spoke cryptically.

“Surely what?”

“Them!” you gestured to the direction that Percy and Annabeth had headed off to. You kicked a small rock with your Converse and watched it tumble away. “Surely we can give a little nudge?” you trailed off, bumping into Luke’s shoulder.

“You’re not seriously gonna play Cupid on them, right?”

“No, I’m not…because we are,” Luke let out a loud breath, hands on his hips as he peered down at you. However, you could see a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“Sweet girl, I adore you, but why not let things run their course?” you hope he did not see the physical reaction over that nickname because, internally, your heart skipped a beat.

“Oh? And you’re telling me those six couples from before would have gotten together without me? You know I’m right about this kind of stuff. I can usually sense it. Besides, it’ll be fun, I promise.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Uhm…you get to spend time with me?” you decided to answer, grinning up at Luke when he gave you a feigned unimpressed look. “Please, besides, you and Percy are close, so it would help a lot. I already have a plan and I need your help for it.”

One look into your eyes, and Luke knew he was doomed. For some reason, you just can make him do anything you ask. Luke could feel the hands on his hips slowly slipping as he looked into your eyes.

“Fine.”

Stage 1: Get Percy to realize his feelings cause he’s blind as hell

It was midnight and everybody else was asleep except for you and Luke. The two of you were in the kitchen, trying to be as quiet as possible.

The two of you were making some fortune cookies for your plan. However, there was a tiny twist to the treat you two were making. You had personally printed out a couple of prompts that you wrote yourself in hopes they would nudge Percy into realizing his feelings.

“Really?’“Romance is in the air. What you’re looking for is right in front of you’?” Luke read out the small piece of paper that you printed. You pulled the cookies out of the oven when they were ready.

“It’s cliche and sort of obvious, but hey! It’ll work because it’s Percy I’m working with,” you quickly pulled the paper out of his hand to put it in the fortune cookie before folding it into shape and letting it cool down.

“Mhm. He’s gonna realize you’re trying to play cupid.”

“Are we talking about the same person? I doubt Percy would realize. Annabeth would, hence why I’m not trying this on her.”

Luke helped you out with a couple of other spare fortune cookies that you two intended to keep for yourselves.

“Alright, finally done,” you muttered, washing your hands. However, you were caught off guard when Luke dipped his hand in the bag of flour on the counter and smeared some on your cheek. Your mouth hung slightly at this, and you looked up at him challengingly. You wiped your hands with a hand towel, “Oh? Is that how we’re playing it?”

“...No…” Luke sheepishly replied, a grin growing on his face when he saw the look of mischief creeping on your face.

“Game on, Castellan,” with that, you dipped both of your hands in flour and chased after the tall boy, who was sprinting around the counter. You caught up with Luke and compromised by smearing flour onto the back of his shirt first. At your attack, he turned around and smeared some more across your face from your other cheek to the top of your nose. You immediately did it back to him.

“Ok, ok, I surrender,” he coughed in between quiet waves of laughter after you smeared some from his cheek down his neck, marking your last attack.

For a moment, Luke and you stood in silence, but when you two let the state of one another sink in, laughs echoed throughout the room again. Luke was able to stop his laughter first, though he was still wearing a wide grin. He washed the flour off his face and dried it with kitchen tissues as you muttered: “Oh, I wish I had a camera. I could practically blackmail you with that photo.”

“I have no doubt you would have never let me live that down,” while replying, Luke also approached you and started wiping the flour off your nose before moving to your cheeks. Your laughter slowly faded as your cheeks heated at the feeling of his hand on your skin. He was looking at you so tentatively. Callous hands - a reflection of his remarkable title as best swordsman - delicately holding your face as if you were the rarest diamond to exist.

Something about this moment felt so domestic. Luke allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy that this is how it would feel like to be with you and share cute moments like these together. Luke unbeknownstly let out a breath he didn’t know he was keeping in as he made eye contact with you.

However, the moment was interrupted by another camper who yelped upon seeing you two in the kitchen. The presence of another person caused you two to spring apart. “I’m so sorry, I’ll leave,” the camper muttered, clearly abandoning their plan of stealing food and sweets in the middle of the night. Luke coughed to break the silence.

“So what’s the plan after giving it to Percy?” Luke asked, looking down at the fortune cookies before picking one up and munching on it.

“Hopefully, he’ll finally realize his feelings, and when he does…Percy will come to you, for sure.”

Stage 2: Romantic gesture

You were right, Percy came to Luke for dating advice. As you planned, Luke suggested that Percy make a flower crown for Annabeth. Hence, here the Hermes counselor was - with Percy as he picked out flowers for Annabeth.

"I'm gonna need you to guide me on this 'cause I've never made flower crowns before," Percy muttered as he picked out California Poppins, Annabeth's favorite. Luke grinned at this. He found it interesting how the young boy already knew. "Maybe you could make one for someone special too?" Percy said, his voice somewhat unsure.

At the young boy's words, Luke froze. The first person that seemed to pop into his mind when Percy said that was you.

"I mean, might as well, right? It's for Valentine's. Maybe you could give it to someone who means a lot to you and makes you happy?" Percy spoke, though there was something instigative about his tone.

Happy. The word bounced in between the walls of Luke's mind. Once again, the first thing that flashed in his head was you. Then, a surge of images came running from memories of you two. He almost could not remember happiness before you. A warm feeling embedded in his chest as he pictured your smile. Just seeing you happy seemed to do it for him, like you could spread happiness to him by just looking at him. You were like the first glimmer of daylight after a cold night. He subconsciously smiled at that thought.

You have always made him feel loved, even though he knew you were probably doing it platonically. However, he would gladly take any form of love that he could receive from you. Every day, waking up and knowing he had you in his life was good enough for him. Maybe he should try giving you more hints. Maybe you'll finally see it. Perhaps Percy was right with the flower crown idea.

“Uhm, sure,” with that, Luke decided to take some of your favorite flowers into his hand and went to a nearby table, where he started guiding Percy on how to make a flower crown. However, ever so often, his mind would trail to its own thoughts whenever he focused on making this flower crown for you.

Percy watched Luke as the older boy started intensely working on his own flower crown, crafting it with so much care as if it was an artwork intended for a national museum. If Percy didn’t know better, he would think Luke was a perfectionist.

Meanwhile, you were sitting with Annabeth near the ocean where she had previously pushed Percy into the waters, leading to Poseidon claiming him. You asked, “Any plans for Valentine’s Day?”

“No, you?”

“Nope.”

“Oh?” she replied, though you tilted your head at the tone of her voice. “I’m just surprised,” Annabeth explained as she looked out at the ocean instead of at you. “I mean…I thought you and Luke…”

“Huh?—”

“Well, I mean, you two are together all the time, and there seems to be something going on —”

“What do you mea—”

“It always seems like you two would gravitate to one another. I just assumed you two were together already—”

“We’re…just friends,” you settled on saying, though you could hear your heart beating loudly, seemingly echoing near your chest and neck. Of course, you knew you had feelings for Luke. However, you have always ruled it as a silly little crush.

“...You sure? You sound really unsure,” Annabeth challenged, making you sigh.

“I mean, he’s really sweet, and nice…”

“Uh-huh”

“And he makes me laugh all the time…”

“That’s good,” Annabeth’s words echoed as you sunk into silence and started reflecting on who Luke was to you. He has always made you feel cared for. Out of everybody at camp, perhaps he was the one you were most comfortable with, never having to be afraid of being yourself. Almost all of your favorite memories at camp included him in them.

You remember the night you told him about your minor fear of the darkness and how he promised to always protect you in it. In a way, since then, he has become your light. You always felt lit up when he made his way to you. Your eyes are always drawn to him like a moth to its flame. Then, it finally dawned on you how serious your feelings were. You realized how most of the time you seemed to be mindless about the existence of your heart until Luke was around because it was only then that your heart would tug or race to run you breathless. You gulped as your eyes darted around slightly.

“I mean…maybe…” you started but snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Luke’s voice. And there it was again, the silly familiar tug your heart was doing just from his voice. “Hey…” you greeted Luke and Percy before noticing Percy with a flower crown in his hand.

“Annabeth, can I speak to you privately?” Annabeth stood up and gestured for Percy to lead the way, presumably somewhere, so the young boy could give her the flower crown and ask her out on Valentine’s Day. You remained seated, still pondering at your feelings and wondering when they had exponentially grown that much.

“I actually have something for you as well,” you finally looked up at Luke when he said this. You noticed he had his hands behind his back. Something about the way he looked now seemed so shy and timid, which was unlike the outgoing and confident boy you always knew.

Your mouth fell agape when he pulled out a flower crown made of your favorite flower. “Luke…” you said his name and stood up when you saw the item.

However, because your eyes were on his gift, you didn’t notice the way Luke’s breath hitched at the sound of your voice calling out his name. He never thought it was anything special until November two years ago when you said his name while laughing at one of his jokes by the campfire. It was probably a moment you did not remember, but ever since then, he felt so sure that he was named so because the name sounded like it was born just for the sole purpose of being sounded from your lips.

“I made this for you,” he muttered, though it sounded almost like a whisper. His eyes shifted to both of your Converses instead of at you. Something about this made him so nervous as if he was handing you his heart instead of a simple gift. He almost scowled at himself for acting like a boy in kindergarten, confessing to his crush.

If only Luke was looking at you because you were looking at him and the item in awe. Your cheeks flushed from his gesture. Though, you were somewhat glad he was not looking at you because you were sure one look at you right now would tell Luke exactly everything about your feelings. You were a blushing mess. “Luke, thank you so much. This is beautiful. I can’t believe you made one for me.”

You touched Luke’s hand that was holding the crown, and he almost grew an even deeper shade of red. “Put it on my head,” you instructed, and he obliged just like everything else you would ask. He was sure he must have caught a sickness or something for wanting to follow you this blindly. But you were perhaps the only one with the power to get him to do absolutely anything. Just as the crown touched your hair, you peered up at him, and the sight alone made Luke swallow nervously.

You looked breathtaking.

And he meant this literally because Luke felt like he stopped breathing for a second. He could not look away. That was until you wrapped your arms around his waist and hugged him. His arms wrapped around your neck almost immediately to return the hug as if they existed to only hold you.

However, unlike the hundreds of hugs before, this one felt different. It was as if something had shifted and was bound to unfold.

Final Stage: Valentine’s Day

Annabeth had said yes.

You were ecstatic to learn that the young girl had agreed to go on a Valentine’s date with Percy. Even though you didn’t want to intrude, you and Luke decided to just have a peep to see what Percy had planned. You were not planning to stay long. It was just a sort of reward or a way to see your plan grow into fruition. You smiled when you spot the cute picnic date near the shore.

“See, I told you the plan was going to work,” you muttered as you tiptoed up in your converses to peer at the kids through the tall bushes nearby. You almost lost balance and step onto Luke's shoes that were similar to yours, except his was red.

The boy quickly steadied you with his hand on your waist. You muttered a quick thank you before turning back to the kids, trying to ignore the blush that was slowly decorating your cheeks. But you were quickly caught off guard at the sight of Percy and Annabeth pushing a small boat off the shore and hopping on it.

“Uhm…that is not what I expected. Where are they going?” Luke looked over your shoulder when you said that. Your eyes fluttered at his warm breath hitting your neck.

However, you noticed the two kids looking like they were in trouble and panicking as they quickly started rowing away. You turned your head towards Luke, forgetting he was very close to you. Your voice faltered as you were about to utter your next sentence. Noticing this, Luke turned to you, only causing the two of you to come face to face with little distance in between. You gulped and forced yourself not to glance down at his lips, “Do you think they’re okay? Should we follow them? I mean…what if they’re in trouble?”

Seeing the worried look on your face, Luke frowned. He deeply disliked anything that caused that kind of expression on your face. Hence, he decided to go over to the second boat there and started pushing it towards the water. “Come on,” you hopped onto the small boat with him and started rowing after Percy and Annabeth, hoping to help them from whatever trouble they were seeming to have.

After a few minutes of rowing behind them, you saw Percy and Annabeth rowing into a small tunnel. Luke and you quickly followed in, rowing your boat, only to be engulfed by darkness upon entering the tunnel.

The wind blew much harder in there, causing goosebumps on your arm as your hand gripped your oar tightly. To make matters worse, it was your most hated type of darkness - utter pitch black. Even with your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you could see nothing, not even Luke.

You were fine with darkness in familiar places like your cabin, where you knew at least there were other campers around and you were safe. You were also mostly fine with darkness where you could see as your eyes adjusted to it. But here, you were in a tunnel you’ve never been in, where there were possibly monsters that could attack you at any moment.

You were slightly startled by the hand that softly touched yours that, unbeknownst to you, was crushing the wooden oar. You immediately recognize it was Luke’s hand from the warmth and familiar touch. He soothingly ran his thumb across your hand. His actions were proven effective at calming you down when you could feel your grip loosen around the tool.

“Breathe, sweet girl,” his words somehow made you release the breath you were subconsciously holding.

A few seconds later, the lights were turned on. You were met with one of the most beautiful sights you’ve ever seen. Lights were decorating the path throughout the tunnel. There were also plants and trees with extended branches and leaves that softly brushed past the boat Luke and you were on.

Suddenly, you both heard a tune start playing quietly in the background, almost quiet enough to make you two think you were imagining it:

“There you see her, sitting there across the way.

She don’t got a lot to say, but there’s something about her”

His thumb hasn’t stopped rubbing over your knuckles even though the darkness was no longer casting over the both of you. His eyes were absorbing how you looked at that moment, embracing it. You were absolutely stunning and he was hopelessly infatuated with you.

“And you don’t know why, but you’re dying to try

You wanna kiss the girl.”

The lyrics made Luke subconsciously lick his lips as he pictured himself kissing you. Gods, he wondered if his heart would even survive doing so and whether anything would ever surpass getting to kiss you. Your eyes flickered to Luke's lips, and he noticed it. He also noticed how your cheeks flushed as you gulped at his actions.

“Luke.”

“Y/N,” you almost melted at the way Luke was saying your name as if it was an honor or privilege to do so. The tone he used was sweeter than any dessert you have ever had. Gods, it was as if your name was a sacred passage he lived by.

“Yes, you want her

Look at her, you know you do”

Indeed he was looking at you, and it felt almost like he was spellbound because he could not take his eyes off you. Right then, you could see it all - he was utterly smitten. He was giving you a soft smile. The lights decorating the tunnel shimmered in his eyes, illuminating just enough to display his pupils and how they almost completely overtook the usual dark brown color that you love. Before you knew it, he was leaning closer to you on the small boat and you mirrored his action.

“Possible she wants you too, there is one way to ask her…”

Just when Luke was inches from your face, he stopped. His eyes longingly stare at your lips like a long-awaited dream that was within his grasp but not quite within his grip yet. You noticed how he took a deep breath as if mustering all the drops of courage he had. His eyes fluttered shut for a second before he opened them again.

“Can I?” he uttered only two words, but somehow, his voice conveyed enough the yearning coursing through every inch of his body. Luke gulped as he restrained himself from closing the distance and waited for your consent.

You nodded wordlessly.

“It don’t take a word, not a single word

Go on and kiss the girl.”

Almost instantly, he caressed both sides of your face and sealed the deal.

All the glory Luke has gained throughout the years seemed trivial compared to kissing you. It almost convinced him that everything he had gone through to get here today was worth it. He hummed against your lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer. Kissing you felt like the best gift he had ever gotten in his entire life. Luke knew he was forever screwed from the way it felt. He could not fathom the idea of his lips ever touching anyone else’s. Maybe they were made for you, but his heart and mind do not seem to oppose that idea.

You slowly slid your arms down, allowing your hands to caress his jawline and the sides of his face. However, your hands slightly jolted at the pace of his heartbeat along the side of his neck. It was as if his heart was trying to break out of his body. Your own heart started replicating the same rhythm. It had you flustered that you had such an effect on him.

Luke broke away from the kiss breathlessly. For a second, he hated the idea of needing air to live because if he could, he would not have stopped showing you how much his lips belonged to you. His forehead leaned against yours while his hands rested on your hips. He looked at you endearingly as if he could not fathom that he just got to kiss you. You smiled at the sight of him.

“I know I’m a tad bit late, but will you be my Valentine?” he sweetly asked.

“Of course, Luke.” Luke grinned at your answer. He drew you in for another kiss as giggles escaped your lips and echoed through the tunnel that now marked an important memory for the two of you.

You truly must be Cupid because your plan not only worked for Percy and Annabeth, but somehow also indirectly gave Luke and you the nudge you both needed.

14th February marked the day when two Cupids wearing Converses got their happy ending.

Bonus:

“I told you that would work,” Annabeth whispered to Percy as the two hopped back onto their boat with a speaker in hand, rowing away hastily to be out of sight from the older couple.

Little did you know, Annabeth had orchestrated the whole thing, including the conversation between her and Percy about their mission in front of Luke and you. Annabeth’s plan of getting Luke and you together through playing cupid together had seemingly worked just like she had planned.

Who said you were the only cupid at Camp Half-Blood?

----------------------

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endless-ineffabilities · 2 months ago

Text

Chemical Override (bonus chapter 5) - Never Have I Ever, Darling

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: what started out as a brilliant anon prompt turned into a potential minishot turned into this bonus chapter. Have at it, darlings.

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Set after part nine. Some of our beloved cast members (Phia, Tom, Liv, Emma, Harry, Bethany, Fabs, Matty, Ewan, and the reader) are in different cities so they decide to have a mini online reunion. And - you guessed it - chaos ensues.

Ewan leans back in his chair, watching the grid of faces on his screen. The reunion call had been predictably chaotic from the start, and now, with everyone several drinks deep, things are getting even more unruly.

“Okay, I’m bored of all your faces now,” Tom groans, leaning back in his chair in mock annoyance. “How about we play a little game?”

You roll your eyes at Tom’s theatrics, but your lips twitch up. “Yeah, why not? I can’t say I enjoy seeing your giant mug either.” This only prompts Tom to shoot back with, “What, this mug?” He then shoves his face into the camera until his nose fills the screen.

Ewan’s smile widens as he watches you lean in to match Tom’s energy, scrunching your nose at the camera. His heart gives an involuntary lurch. He misses you, and all your sharp and witty retorts. You can make him laugh without even trying. His mind flashes to what you used to have together, and it stings more than he cared to admit.

But then his eyes dart to the tiny square beside yours – Matt. His smile is effectively dampened.

Phia cuts in, her eyes glinting with mischief. “We were thinking... Never Have I Ever? So you have to say whether or not you've done a thing. If you have, take a drink. And elaborate if you want.”

She winks at someone – or maybe a few someones – definitely not Ewan. He frowns. Something’s going on here.

“Oh, I don’t do that,” Harry jokes. “I’m too young and innocent to drink!”

Emma beams at him, “That’s my good boy.”

Without missing a beat, Tom slides in, smirking, “Do I lose cool points if I also want Emma to call me their good boy?”

“When have you ever been cool?” Ewan deadpans, raising an eyebrow.

“Ouch,” Tom dramatically presses a hand to his chest, “You roasted me in the show, and now you roast me in real life? Cold, mate. Cold.”

Fabien chuckles, but Ewan barely registers it. His focus drifts to you, laughing at something Matt just said in the chat. His chest tightens, and he heads to the kitchen to refill his drink. It is always like this. He could never decide if he was more annoyed with Matt for being so… Matt, or with himself for letting it get to him. But how can it not?

When everyone is settled back in their seats, respective alcoholic beverages in hand, Phia announces, “Alright, drinks ready? Let’s go! I’ll start.” She pauses dramatically before delivering her line. “Never have I ever… embarrassed myself at work.”

Ewan freezes, already knowing he’s about to be dragged into this. Your eyes flicker toward him, an amused smile tugging at your lips.

“Oh, I know who! Mr. Ewan Mitchell please take the stage,” Tom prompts, his voice ever teasing.

Matt raises an eyebrow, leaning in closer to the camera. “Yeah, mate. Let’s hear it.”

Ewan feels a pulse of irritation, but he forces a casual grin, raising his glass. “Fine. Fine. There was this one time… during an interview… where I got... distracted.”

You raise an eyebrow, grinning wickedly as you catch his glance. “By what? A hard question?”

Ewan chuckles darkly, his gaze locked on you. “Nope. By a certain someone.”

The rest of the group catches on instantly, erupting in loud whoops and laughter. You laugh too, shaking your head, but the faint blush creeping up your neck doesn’t go unnoticed by Ewan.

“Ohhh, I remember,” Liv howls, her wine sloshing in her glass. “You'd go beet red! We even had a drinking game dedicated to those.”

"What?" Ewan asks, clearly confused.

"Nothing," Liv quickly mutters, but then she and Phia have to stifle their giggles.

You lean back in your chair, shaking your head. “By the way, I wasn’t distracting! I was just being professional.”

“Sure, love,” Matt chimes in, throwing a smirk your way. “You’ve always been very… professional.”

Ewan’s smile fades slightly as he watches the exchange. He tries to laugh it off, but there’s a knot forming in his chest that refuses to loosen.

Tom jumps in to keep the energy up. “Next one! Never have I ever... pretended to know something just to impress someone I liked.”

Matt and Ewan both freeze for a second. Tom’s eyes light up, knowing he’s hit something. Everyone else watches intently, waiting for one of them to crack.

Phia laughs, clearly enjoying the tension. “Oh, come on, boys. One of you’s gotta drink to this.”

Matt is the first to cave, lifting his glass with a sheepish grin. “Alright, guilty as charged.”

“Oh? And what was it?” Ewan asks, leaning forward, his tone sharper than he intended.

Matt shrugs, eyes flicking to you briefly. “Indie film. Thought I could impress someone by pretending I’d seen it. No idea what it was about.”

You snicker, rolling your eyes. “Points for trying, Smithy.”

“Cheers to trying too hard, I guess,” Ewan icily mutters.

Matt doesn’t respond immediately, but his jaw tightens as he drinks.

Phia, loving the growing tension, grins wickedly as she leans toward the screen. “Alright, alright. This one might be for the silly boys. Never have I ever... gotten flustered because of someone I’m attracted to on set.”

Ewan’s heart jumps into his throat, and he catches your eye. The group goes silent for a split second before exploding in laughter.

“Oh, this is going to be good,” Tom says, rubbing his hands together in delight.

Ewan feels his face heating up, the alcohol loosening his control over his reactions. He tries to play it off, taking a deliberate sip of his drink, but he knows everyone’s watching him. Matt, unsurprisingly, is doing the same.

“Wait – both of you?” Emma teases, eyes darting between Ewan and Matt. “This is getting interesting.”

Bethany chuckles. “What’s this? A love triangle brewing? Well, I already know which side I’m on!”

Ewan can feel the weight of the question hanging in the air, even though it’s masked in humour. His heart pounds, but he keeps his face neutral. The laughter from the screen feels distant, his focus narrowing on you as you nervously sipped your drink.

Before anyone can linger on the moment too long, Tom jumps in with another devilish idea. “Next one: Never have I ever... met my celebrity crush.”

You sigh dramatically, lifting your glass. “Alright. Fine. I have.”

Matt’s smirk widens. “And who would that be?”

You pause for a moment, glancing at Ewan briefly before you say, “Matt was my celebrity crush during his Doctor Who days.”

The group erupts into chaos – clapping, whistling, teasing jabs flying from every direction. Tom is practically falling out of his chair with laughter, clapping loudly. “Oh, that is brilliant! Drink up!”

Matt raises his glass, clearly enjoying the attention. “Well, can’t say I’m surprised.”

Ewan forces a smile, the jealousy burning under his skin. Just when he thinks it might cool down, Liv drops another bomb. “Alright, here’s a cheeky one. Never have I ever... had naughty public sex.”

The group’s reactions ranged from laughter to playful groans, but Ewan’s focus was solely on you. Your eyes went wide, and you quickly glanced at him, clearly panicking.

His phone buzzes on the table, while the rest of the group is busy answering – and attempting to avoid – the question. He looks down and sees a message from you.

My Darling: Don’t answer that.

- Why not?

My Darling: They’ll figure it out

- My love, hate to break it to you but I wasn’t celibate before we met

My Darling: You know how they think

- It’s not a big deal.

My Darling: Come on. Please?

- Say the magic word

My Darling: I just did.

- No you didn’t

My Darling: PLEASE don��t answer that.

- Not what I’m looking for

My Darling: Oh for fuck’s sake.

- What do you call me?

My Darling: Don’t answer, Mitchell.

- Nope

My Darling: Ugh. Ok.

My Darling: Baby, don’t answer that. I implore you. Baby, oh baby.

Ewan can’t help but giggle to himself at your barely veiled sarcasm, just bleeding off the text message. His silly girl.

- And we have a winner!

My Darling: I hate u.

- Enough to fuck my brains out in a semi-public place

My Darling: Shut up, Mitchell.

- You love me

You glance up from your phone, eyes meeting Ewan’s on the screen. He’s grinning like the cat who got the cream, clearly loving watching you squirm. He leans back in his chair, keeping his glass lowered. “You know, I think I’m going to plead the fifth on this one.”

Tom and Fabien erupt into loud boos, but the rest of the group is laughing, already tipsy and entertained by the spectacle. Ewan feels a rush of satisfaction watching you blush even harder.

“Oh, come on!” Tom scoffs, clearly annoyed. “You can’t plead the fifth. This is a mostly British group call.”

“I’m in LA,” Ewan shoots back with a grin. “I’m allowed.”

“Hold on, hold on,” Harry interrupts, his eyes wide with confusion. “I’m sorry, what does ‘pleading the fifth’ mean?”

Emma responds, “I think that means you can choose not to answer.”

“What?” Harry practically yells, and nearly slides off the edge of his seat, making everyone laugh. “So I could have been using that all this time?”

“It’s an American thing, mate,” Bethany clarifies, trying to stifle her laughter.

“But Ewan’s doing it!” Harry protests.

“I’m in LA so…” Ewan shrugs nonchalantly, a smug grin spreading across his face.

“Ewan has a point,” you chime in, coming to his aid – and yours. “Just let the guy plead the fifth.”

Phia then points to you, mischief in her eyes. “Alright, babe, your turn. No pleading the fifth. You’re not in LA.”

“What?” you freeze. In your efforts not to get Ewan to answer, you forgot you had to avoid the same problem. Ewan just stares at your flustered image on the screen, mouth parted in disbelief. You think for a moment, then blurt out, “But I… also plead the fifth!”

“You’re not in the US!” Tom declares. “Nope, not gonna happen.”

“Come on,” you retort, scrambling for an excuse. “I could be in the US right now, how do you know?”

“Love,” Matt smirks, “I just saw you yesterday.”

“No, you didn’t,” you say immediately. “That was my twin sister.”

“Then she’s every bit as gorgeous as you are,” Matt quips, relishing the moment.

“Alright, you two,” Phia says, feeling the need to intervene for Ewan’s sake. “Okay, babe, no more dodging. You have to follow the rules.”

“I… I… oh for fuck’s sake,” you sigh in defeat. “Yes.”

The group erupts into drunken cheers, the noise practically deafening through Ewan’s speakers. He watches you laugh, clearly embarrassed, but enjoying the chaos.

Then, just as the cheers start to die down, Ewan raises his glass with a smug grin. “You know what? I changed my mind. I’ll answer too. Yes.”

The group explodes again – Fabien banging on his desk, Tom howling with laughter, and Liv nearly spilling her wine in delight. Meanwhile, Ewan’s eyes remain locked on yours, the tension between you undeniable.

Fabien, already catching on, cheers loudly. “Yes, mate!”

You cover your face with both hands, utterly speechless. “Oh my god,” you exclaim, trying to process the turn of events.

“Oh,” Emma starts, then repeats with more gusto, “OH! So you two…”

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @urmomsgirlfriend1 @misfitbimbosblog (continued in comments ... )

Some notes in the margins...

A little something mainly for the Ewan girlies... 😉

Oh, and Liv hinted at a past bonus chapter if you can catch it ~

Anyhow - this was fun! At least Ewan seemed to think to so at the end there. 🥃��🥂

#chemical override #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell imagine #ewan mitchell fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #hotd

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babyjakes · 11 months ago

Text

help me hold onto you.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | kinkmas 2023

prompt | sex pollen

pairing | steve rogers x avenger!reader

warnings | sex pollen (reader was exposed to some sort of chemical agent that induced a persistent state of hyperarousal.) medical elements (reader is staying in the medbay.) crying (not related to the sexual interactions.) stevie is soooo soft :')). dialogue is soft and sweet, gentle praise and encouragement included. fingering. tummy rubs bc they make me soft. she comes quick! intense, prolonged orgasm. the beginnings of aftercare.

word count | 1,356

"Hey, hey- okay. I'm here, sweetheart. I'm here. Just tell me what you need."

Steve's brow was raised in gentle concern as he stood over your hospital bed. Dr. Banner had set you up in a secluded room at the end of the medbay, wanting to give you as much privacy as possible given the nature of your condition. It was still all a bit baffling to Steve; Bruce had shared any information he had available on the mysterious chemical you'd been exposed to out on your mission to a foreign bioweaponry facility, but most of it had gone in one of the supersoldier's ears and out the other. "Persistent heightened state of arousal" was the only phrase he was able to cling to, which still didn't feel like much to go off of.

As he stood there at your bedside, though, those words were all of a sudden making a lot more sense. You were a pitiful sight, really- curled up on your side with your knees hugged up to your chest. Your whole body was shaking, something that tore at your teammate's heart as he came to better terms with the severity of the state you were in. Overcome with obvious discomfort, all you could do was lie there and rub your sore knees together uselessly. Your hands reached out for him needily; in an instant, he was lowering himself down to sit beside you, leaning over you attentively as his face filled with concern.

"Oh doll," he hummed, reaching out to brush back your hair with a steady hand. Your forehead was drenched in sweat, your big eyes looking up at him pleadingly. As another wave of unbearable heat rolled over you, tears were building in your eyes. "How can I help, sweet girl?" Steve was pressing, "Is there anything I can do?"

In a moment of total weakness, you reached out for him again. This was completely abnormal behavior for you. Being the youngest and newest to the team, you were always intentional about maintaining an image of responsibility and restraint. But as Steve sat there at your side, his steel blue eyes looking over you so thoughtfully as he gently offered you his hands, your hijacked mind was fixating on him faster than you could realize what was happening.

"P-please," the weakness of your small voice broke Steve's heart. He nodded encouragingly, wanting to do anything he could to ease your suffering.

"What is it, honey? Hmm? What do you need?" he asked soothingly.

More tears built in your eyes as you failed to generate a verbal response. Instead, all you could do was continue to writhe pathetically. Steve's brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of your movements. "Does something hurt?" You whimpered feebly at his question, shaking your head. "No, then what is it, sweetheart? Can you tell me, or- or show me?"

Desperation drove your every move as you shifted slightly onto your back, your knees falling apart as you brought a shaking hand down to motion over your hospital gown toward where the sensations were accumulating. If Steve was surprised or offended by your admission, he didn't let it show. Instead, he simply nodded, speaking with an understanding tone, "It's bothering you there, darlin'? Do you want me to take a look?"

Your wide, pleading eyes were enough to answer his question. Pausing, he took a moment to consider the best way to proceed. After a quick glance back at the door to the hallway, seeing that the coast was seemingly clear, he gently brought his hands over to lift up the thin fabric of the gown, pulling it back to expose the area you had pointed to. Steve couldn't help but gasp softly as he saw the ramifications for the first time; any doubts he could've had about the compound's strength or effects were immediately shot down as he faced the living, breathing evidence.

"Oh honey," he crooned worriedly, leaning his head down a bit to get a better look. Your pussy was so puffy it almost looked painful. Your clit was swollen to about three times its normal size, pulsating visibly in unison with your heavy heartbeat. Bruce had placed a wide gauze pad beneath you, and it wasn't hard to see why; with the constant state of arousal your body was trapped in, you were amassing an impressive amount of self-lubricant. Face drawn in disbelief and honest fascination, Steve struggled to find words to console you. "Sweetie, what can I do? Let me help you," his voice was swelling with concern. Swallowing hard, his gaze returned up to your face. "Can I-... would it help if I-... you know...?" The sweetest hint of pink rose up in his cheeks.

You were unsure of what would happen if he tried, but with the way your stomach was lurching and spasming in excitement at the mere thought, both you and Steve knew it would be senseless to not at least give it a try. Sensing your mild confliction, the supersoldier took a moment to brush back your hair again as his soothing voice filled the air, "It's alright, doll. Let me take care of you. S'just me, just Stevie. I'll be gentle, I promise."

As he spoke, he gently drew his hand down to begin rubbing at your inner thigh. Letting out a squeak of surprise, your heart jumped at the way his touch immediately sent sparks shooting up through your tangled nerves. "Easy," he hummed lowly, pushing on you carefully to encourage you to open up your legs a little further. Once you were nice and spread out for him, he took another deep breath. "Okay darlin'. Just keep breathing for me," he seemed to be trying to calm his own nerves as much as he was yours.

With the lightest amount of pressure he could manage, Steve carefully brought his pointer and middle middle fingers to sink slightly into your pool of arousal. They didn't linger long, as they then slowly dragged up your wetness to smear over your enlarged clit. The moment he came in contact with your poor button, your world was set ablaze. You had never felt such unbearable heat in your life; it was as if every atom within your core was being blasted into smithereens, an incredible amount of energy and pressure building up inside of you as a result.

"Easy, easy- shhhh," Steve was doing his best to talk you through it, watching as your hands scrambled to grip the sheets below you, your hips rocking in shameless desperation.

"Mm.... mmhh... hhh..." you struggled through incoherent whines. The man brought his free hand over to rub your tummy gently, trying to give you any sense of comfort and safety he could as he continued working the pads of his fingers in careful, steady circles.

It only took a few more moments of the simple stimulation to send an orgasm ripping through you with unimaginable force; as Steve saw your climax hit, his eyes widened, but he was intent on carrying you through it. Needy cunt spasming around nothing, your clit jerked and jolted beneath his tender traces. Your eyes were rolling back in your head, your whole body at the mercy of the waves of pleasure crashing over you.

And you kept coming, and coming, and coming- trapped in the grips of your orgasm for what must have been minutes compared to the fleeting moments you were usually granted. "Good, let it out," Steve was murmuring softly, watching as all your pent-up frustration was slowly pulled from your seizing body.

When you were finally winding down, breathless and slumped against the flimsy mattress beneath you, he was careful to pull his hands away with the utmost care to avoid causing you any further discomfort or unwanted stimulation. As he stood momentarily to find something to wipe his hands with, you let out a shaky whimper. "No, no, I'm here," he quickly returned to your side, retaking his place next to you on the cot. "I'm right here, doll. You're okay. Here, let me clean you up a bit, honey."

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steddieas-shegoes · 11 months ago

Text

wayne's got him

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'wayne adopts steve' rated g wc: 680 cw: migraines tags: hurt/comfort, established relationship, fluff

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Steve's head was pulsing, a sharp pain shooting from his eyes to his neck, sitting at his jaw for minutes at a time.

He hadn't had a migraine this bad in a while, and definitely not since Eddie had started working. He didn't have anyone here to help, and Robin would be at work until the afternoon.

He slowly rolled over in bed, wincing as the pain got worse from the movement.

He couldn't contain the whimper he let out as he tried to settle again, his head hurting too much in every position to try to get comfortable.

"Steve? Y'alright?" Wayne's voice was probably a normal volume, but it felt like shards of glass in his ears, against his eyes.

Apparently, his responding whimper was enough to have Wayne opening the door and coming into the bedroom.

"You dyin'?" Wayne whispered, seemingly sensing that every noise was too much.

"No," Steve managed to say. "Migraine."

Wayne didn't respond at first and Steve couldn't keep his eyes open. What little light was coming through the window felt like the sun was shining two feet in front of him.

And then the light was gone, the room was nearly pitch black, and Wayne's footsteps were getting closer to the bed.

"Gonna get you some water and meds. Hungry?" He whispered.

Steve shook his head once, barely.

He may have passed out for a minute or two because the next thing he knows, he's being slowly lifted enough to take a sip from the glass that's being held against his lips.

"Just a few small sips, son. The meds are crushed up in it," Wayne whispered.

Steve did his best, dribbling some when he accidentally opened his mouth too far.

Wayne wiped his mouth and chin after with a towel hanging off the chair by the bed.

"Called Eddie to let him know, told him I got ya."

"'S okay."

"I got ya, I said. Lay back, I got the ice pack."

Steve did what he asked, sighing with relief when the ice pack was placed on his forehead.

"That better?" Wayne asked.

"Mhm."

"Leave it for ten minutes and then I'll switch it out with the hot water bottle."

Eddie must've told him that helps.

Their day wore on, Steve sleeping when he could find some relief, letting Wayne nurse him back to health when he couldn't.

By the time Eddie got home, Steve's head was in Wayne's lap while he slowly massaged his temple.

"Any better?" Eddie whispered.

"A bit," Steve replied softly. "He did the ice and heat."

"Of course he did. That's where I learned it from," Eddie smiled softly at him.

"You go get cleaned up and then take over," Wayne said to Eddie. "I got him."

Eddie kissed Steve's forehead before walking to the shower to wash off the day.

Steve closed his eyes again, trying to fend off the nausea of the smell of chemicals from the mechanic shop that always lingered on Eddie after a shift.

"Stinks, don't he?" Wayne asked quietly.

Steve smiled.

"A little. 'S okay."

"Smells hurt worse though, don't they?"

"Yeah."

"He's still got some learnin'. But I got ya both 'til he does."

Steve turned his head to look at Wayne.

"Why are you helping me? Weren't you tired after your shift?" Steve asked, realizing for the first time that Wayne had just gotten home from his night shift when he found Steve miserable that morning.

He'd been awake for more than 24 hours now, and didn't seem even remotely worried about himself.

"Cuz you're my boy. I love ya and if ya need me, I'm gonna be here."

Steve felt his eyes start to burn with incoming tears, his throat closing against a sob.

"But-"

"No buts. You got me same as Ed, and if I could, I'd adopt you too. Okay?"

"Okay."

By the time Eddie made it back into the bedroom, Steve was asleep, and Wayne's eyes were drooping closed.

Eddie didn't have the heart to make Wayne get up.

It'd be okay; He had Steve.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieholidaydrabbles #wayne munson

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abibliophobiaa · 1 year ago

Note

fluff and/or smut request based on the prompt “My God, you're fun to kiss.”

Eddie preferred but if Steve inspires you more for this that's okay too!

ily💖

eddie munson x afab!reader. 18+.

It starts as friends.

Acquaintances, really. People who pass each other in the hall. Glances as you go, simple pleasantries, a wave if you’re lucky.

But fate steps in. And soon it’s a joint project, it’s trying to care for an egg together, to make sure it doesn’t break, gentleness foreign to both of you. It’s handing off your pretend child at the end of an afternoon—it’s joint custody over an eventual grade.

Soon, it’s gentle brushes of flesh in science class. It’s an accidental touch after almost dropping a pipette, a borrowed pencil, a shared eraser. Awkward encounters become heated glances. They become chemical interactions like the science projects you share with Eddie Munson.

Bright, vibrant, and potent.

You think it’s a joke when you’re paired in English class. Some sort of cosmic arrangement in the stars, a joke from the gods, what have you. Because of all the people you could act out Romeo and Juliet with, Eddie Munson is the last one on your list.

He’s brash and unruly. He’s disorganized and frenetic. He’s…well, he’s charismatic and alluring. Infuriating and compelling. Intriguing and impossible. Handsome and absolutely grotesque. Charming and…

Well. That’s the problem, really. The more the stars align, the more you find you like him. The more you find yourself enraptured by the boy with curly hair and a dimpled smile.

So it’s almost no surprise when you find yourself seated on a bench in the middle of spring, surrounded by dappled light and looming trees, books stretched out in front of you, practicing your lines. Only Eddie’s distracted. Has been for a bit. Since you arrived, really.

“Is there something on my face?” Your words are short. Staccato. Clipped. Brusque, without a real reason for them being so.

“Er—no.”

And that’s that. These weeks, these opportune moments—they mean nothing. Fleeting gazes, jovial banter, and brief looks? Those don’t make up a relationship. You know this. Yet it stings all the same. Sinks deep in your gut.

Or so you think.

The next time you meet in the woods, Eddie’s a live wire. Fingers tapping a pen on his notebook, brushing your cheek, curling around your jaw. He’s staring at you fondly. Like you’re the only girl in the world; like you’re his. And you would be—if he’d only asked you.

It’s on that day, as the sun sets and the sky glows orange, he leans down and kisses you the first time.

A gentle brush of his lips over yours as you sit on top of that wooden table. His knees press to the bench, your backside on the tabletop, his ringed fingers around your hips.

He kisses you like you’re precious—a jewel to be cherished, bright and twinkly, rare and his. And you find you like that; languish in it.

You get a B+ in O’Donnell’s class and the woods become your haven that next week. A place where you can run to him, your fingers in his hair, his arms around your waist. Whispers of hate and love, of frustration and adoration, of ‘will they’ and ‘won’t they.’

There’s a shlick of a zipper lowering. A hiss from the boy before you as you tug him forward by his belt loops, nosing along his throat, sucking purple hickeys into supple flesh.

He’s plush lips over your breast, whispers of, “My god, you’re fun to kiss.”

And you’re pliant. Heart a flutter as he slides your skirt up your thighs, parting you for him, brushing at your slit. He teases at your flesh. One finger, swirling in your slick, mouth swallowing your pitiful moans. And then another, sliding into you. Making you whimper and moan, gasps muffled against the column of his throat.

“Gonna be a good girl for me?” He asks, brushing his mouth over your ear.

Smirks into your skin when you tremble, thighs spreading wider, welcoming the boy as he prods at your center, groans when you whimper into his chest at the brush of his fullness against your hole.

“Y-yeah, Eds.”

“What do you want, baby? Need your words.”

Another brush. A nudge. A slight pressure where you want him most, but it has your toes curling, fingers tightening around his leather jacket, gripping fast to curls, teeth clenching around his earlobe.

“Need you to fuck me,” you manage.

“Yeah, baby?” He’s smirking. Dimples and cockiness, fingers curling around his base, pressing his head against your center. Collecting your slick and pushing in slightly. Enough to have you quivering, enough to have you begging for more. “Like this?”

And he’s sliding in. Inch by blessed inch, slowly and painstakingly so, until you’re a gasping, writhing, pleading mess. Tears prick your eyes, fingers in his hair, mouth against his.

“You like me,” he rasps.

Not a question.

Not at all.

A statement. Simple, just like breathing. Just like the way he slides in and out of you—like he’s always done so, like it’s what he’s always been made to, like he’s been doing so all along.

“I do,” you gasp out, shuddering around him, curling your thighs around him, dragging him closer. You need him closer. “I like you, Eddie Munson.”

“Go out with me.” A brush of his lips over your heart, hips rolling against yours, drawing out your pleasure.

You hate him, you like him, you might even love him.

“I will,” you whimper, pulling him tighter, burning brighter. “I will.”

And it’s one week later you walk down the halls hand in hand with Eddie Munson. Your health partner, lab partner, english partner. Stranger, acquaintance, friend.

Boyfriend.

Yours.

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x reader fluff #Eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x afab!fem!reader #eddie munson x afab reader

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dystopic-view · 3 months ago

Text

Encounter with a Yakuza Member 18+

Nanami x fem/afab reader

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: You're going home from work when suddenly, you're kidnapped by 3 mysterious men. You're taken to a secondary location, and you wake up in a penthouse with 10 other men, only to witness a stranger barge into the room, and disposing of every single one of them. Said stranger decides you're his problem now, so you're going with him whether you want to or not.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒: yakuza Nanami, nsfw, brief descriptions of violence and death, kidnapping, being unconscious, mentions of blood, smoking, suggestive content, fluff, smut, fingering, kinda enemies to lovers, kinda breeding kink, happy ending

𝐖.𝐂: 8.7K

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓: This is based on a prompt from a bot I saw on J.ai, credits to stormiedeen

It was a regular Tuesday afternoon.

I had just gotten out of the coffee shop I had been working at for about 3 years, and I was walking down the narrow dimly lit streets of Tokyo, heading towards my small apartment.

As always, the experience was extremely unsettling.

Every time I worked late shifts I always encountered drunk and sketchy people during my walk home.

My heart raced inside my chest at every comment, stare or interaction they directed my way.

But tonight was different.

It was 08:00 PM, and the streets were eerily quiet.

An extremely odd occurrence.

Being alone in those normally crowded streets, left an uneasy feeling creeping up my insides as I made my way forward, my eyes jolting back and forth anxiously.

I fastened my pace, eventually spotting my street appearing in the distance when suddenly, 2 men walked out from the adjacent streets to the one I was walking on.

They were wearing black suits, and dark sunglasses over their eyes, their lips thinly pressed together with an intimidating expression on their face.

And they were staring directly at me.

I stopped dead in my tracks, taking a few steps back, sensing whatever these men were intending on doing with me, couldn't be good.

I kept walking backwards until I felt my back press against something.

Not something, someone.

I turned my head slightly to the side, spotting another man wearing a black suit and sunglasses from the corner of my eye.

I didn’t even have a chance to react before I felt a wet rag cover my nose and mouth, a strong chemical odor burning through my nostrils, making my eyes water instantly.

The two men in front of me were now standing by my side, their hands wrapped around my arms as I trashed around trying to free myself from their grasp, the rag still over my lips and nose.

My hearing soon became muffled, and my vision blurred until everything turned black.

The next time I woke up, I was laying on a couch with my wrists and ankles bound with zip ties, and a piece of tape covering my mouth. I realized I was inside the penthouse of a skyscraper.

Looking around, alI could see was the bright Tokyo skyline, every wall of the big room lined with floor to ceiling length windows.

I slowly peeked my head from over the couch, and I spotted elevator doors to my left, and to my right, in the furthest point of the room there was a dark oak table. There were around 10 men surrounding it, a conversation going on which I couldn't exactly make out.

All of them were wearing black suits as well.

I spotted the same 3 men who attacked me, sitting down by it.

I lowered my head, and began trying to free myself from my restraints.

I tried to separate my wrists, feeling the plastic of the ziptie digging into them, the skin around it reddening almost instantly.

It was impossible.

The room became quiet all of a sudden.

‘‘Fuck.’’ I whispered to myself.

They must’ve heard me struggling.

One of the suited men appeared in front of me, and I could swear I felt my heart stop beating for a few seconds as I watched him take a small knife out of his pocket.

He crouched down in front of me, a sadistic smirk covering his lips. I felt a sense of dread wash upon me, But instead of hurting me with it, he instead cut off both of the zipties. He reached towards my face with his hand and pulled off the tape from my lips harshly, eliciting a wince out of me due to the stinging pain.

As if nothing happened, he got up, and walked back towards the table, sitting at it once more.

The conversation resumed. I sat there dumbfounded for a few seconds, not knowing exactly what to do and what my next move should be.

Should I make a run for the elevator? Should I scream for help? Should I beg for my life? I truly didn’t know what to do, so I simply froze.

I stared blankly at the window in front of me, my gaze locked in the stars in the sky.

I remained there, motionless for what felt like hours.

My mindless thoughts were eventually interrupted by the ding of the elevator.

I looked over at the doors, and out came a tall blonde man wearing a dark navy blue suit with white stripes, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips.

He had an unamused expression on his face, and the way he was carrying himself as he walked into the room made me assume he was in charge.

But judging by the shocked look on the other men's faces, that didn’t seem to be the case.

Many of them were grasping their sides, reaching for their guns or knives.

The blonde man sucked in some smoke from his cigarette, before puffing it out and dropping it on the carpet beneath his feet.

He stepped on it, putting it out.

He glanced down at his watch, and grumbled in a quietly frustrated tone, ‘‘8:40. Fucking bastard.’’

One of the surprised men then shouted, ‘‘Who the fuc–’’ being promptly interrupted by a bullet straight through his forehead.

Everything that came after was absolute utter chaos.

The man ran forward, quickly disposing of every single person sitting at that table, using a combination of a pistol and a large knife.

I ducked down on the couch, my gaze in a widened state of shock, completely disturbed by the ordeal. I covered my ears trying to mask the screams from the men getting slaughtered by this mysterious figure.

By the end, the room was a mess of blood and scattered bodies on the ground.

From behind the couch, I heard the metal clinking of a cigarette case opening and closing, and the satisfying sound of a Zippo lighter igniting.

I heard him inhaling and exhaling deeply, the scent of cigarette smoke quickly wafting through the room.

I was trying my best to remain unnoticed, not wanting to be seen by a man who had just killed an entire room of people, but I unconsciously let out a whimper as I heard the sound of glass crunching under his feet.

Normally, that obviously wouldn’t have scared me, but I was so on edge I couldn't help but make a sound.

Quickly, I covered my mouth with my hand, realizing what I had just done.

The sound of his footsteps moved closer, until he was standing directly in front of me, a terrified expression plastered all over my face.

He had a cigarette between his lips once more, and he was staring at me with furrowed brows and a face I could only describe as threatening.

I looked up from the couch, completely terrified, my whole body shaking from the experience.

I was scared for my life, fearing I would suffer the same fate as the men lying lifeless on the ground, simply by being in the same space as them.

He stepped towards me, and reached out, placing his hand behind my head, his fingers interlocking with my hair hastily pulling me up to stand.

‘‘Hey problem. Why’re you hiding?’’ He tilted his head to the side, looking me up and down.

I winced in pain at the sudden aggression, and he didn’t even let me answer his question before beginning to walk towards the elevator doors, practically dragging me by my hair, ‘‘Tsk. My shifts’ over, so you’re coming with me.’’

I whimpered once more at the pain burning through my scalp, his fingers tightly wrapped around my hair.

He rolled his eyes at the sound that came from my lips, and I felt his grip on my hair loosen ever so slightly.

‘‘Stop that noise, I’m not going to hurt you.’’

His tone was cold and harsh as he dragged me into the elevator, pressing the button for the parking garage, finally letting go of my hair.

‘‘Yet.’’ He added, glancing over at me, his expression unreadable.

‘‘What’s your name, and what were you doing here?’’

The elevator started making its descent.

Something told me he wasn't kidding about hurting me if I kept being a nuisance.

There was a dangerous aura surrounding this man, and I was dreading being around him.

I tried my best to calm down, despite the fact I was literally being manhandled by someone who just killed 10 people with no effort.

‘‘I’m y/n.’’ I spoke up quietly, my voice trembling slightly.

‘‘I was going home after work, and 3 of those guys grabbed me, put something over my mouth and the next thing i knew everything was black…’’ I uttered, trying my hardest to remember the moments that followed my blackout.

The man simply raised his eyebrow, his gaze sweeping over me.

I noticed he was covered in blood, and I couldn't help but stare at his stained clothes in shock, although from the way he was acting, it seemed like it was such a normal thing to him.

‘‘Y/n, huh? Nice to meet you.’’ He smirked slightly, and leaned against the elevator wall, crossing his arms over his chest.

‘‘So, they kidnapped you and brought you here. Did they mention why?" His gaze sharpened.

‘‘They didn't speak to me at all…’’ I whispered back, my voice laced with uncertainty as I looked down at my feet.

‘‘I just remember being grabbed in the street, blacking out, and waking up with my hands and feet tied up on that couch…’’ I grabbed a lock of my hair, fidgeting with it between my fingers, while retelling the events.

‘‘I think one of them noticed me struggling to free myself, got up from the desk, removed my restraints and then went back to where he was sitting… A bit after, you showed up…’’

The man nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face.

‘‘I see. Well, it seems they had no intention of keeping you alive if they were just allowing you to eavesdrop on their business.’’

I shivered a little at this ominous remark, figuring these people probably meant to harm me.

His eyes were locked on the ground, I could tell he was thinking about something.

As the elevator arrived at the parking garage, his eyes traveled up, finding mine.

His expression softened slightly.

He then pushed off from the elevator wall as the doors opened, walking out of it.

I exited the elevator, but stayed slightly behind.

‘‘Come on.’’ He gestured for me to follow him with his hand.

‘‘Let’s get out of here. I’ve had enough of this place.’’

I remained frozen in place next to the entrance of the parking garage, as he walked towards a sleek black Mercedes parked in the corner.

‘‘You can tell me more in the car.’’

I parted my lips in awe.

I witnessed this man commit a horrific crime and he was actually expecting me to just get in the car with him.

I mustered every ounce of courage I had inside of me, and spoke out in a trembling voice.

‘‘I’m not getting in the car with you, sir.’’ My body shook nervously, fearing the outcome of going against his wishes.

He stopped walking, and slowly turned to face me.

‘‘Excuse me?’’ He raised his eyebrow, his voice dangerously low.

‘‘I suggest you come with me y/n. For your own good.’’

He took a few steps towards me, stopping right in front of where I was standing, his figure looming over mine.

I looked up into his eyes, my breathing shaky and my heart beating so fast I thought it might stop any second.

‘‘I can walk home by myself, sir.’’ I said, trembling, his menacing appearance too intimidating to bear.

‘‘And how do you plan on doing that?’’ He scoffed, a hint of irritation in his voice, almost like he was making fun of my remark.

I could tell how stupid he found my suggestion to be, and that irked me.

‘‘You’re in the middle of nowhere, y/n.’’ He leaned in closer, his voice low. ‘‘Now, you either come with me willingly, or… I make you come with me. Your choice.’’

My body shook in fear, knowing I didn't actually have a choice, despite it appearing like he was giving me one.

He could overpower me with ease if I tried to escape or fight back, and the feeling of helplessness was dreadful.

‘‘Where are you taking me?’’ I inquired, still frozen in place, my voice still shaky, unsure if I should trust him or not.

He straightened his posture up, and the tension in his face melted away, his eyes more gentle now.

‘‘Somewhere safe. For now.‘‘

He turned around and started walking towards the car again.

‘‘Please get in the car, y/n. We'll talk more once we're out of here." He opened the passenger side door, and gestured for me to get in.

‘‘Please.’’ He added, his tone surprisingly kind given the circumstances.

I took a deep breath, and walked over to the car, slipping inside and sitting in the passenger seat.

An impending sense of doom washed over me, and I started feeling as if those were my last moments.

I was a witness to a crime after all, and that left an uneasy feeling in my gut that I couldn't shake off.

Furthermore, I was getting inside of a car owned by the perpetrator of said crime.

Allowing him to take me wherever he wanted.

But I felt like I had no choice.

I shakily began putting the seatbelt on, the nerves getting to me, my breathing heavier.

Once I was buckled in, he closed the door and walked around to the driver's side, getting in. He started the car, pulled out of the parking spot and began driving towards the exit.

‘‘As for where we're going... I’m taking you to my place. It's the safest option right now."

He glanced over at me as he spoke, his expression emotionless, before he turned his attention to the road.

‘‘Why can’t I go back to my own house?’’ I dared to ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

He looked at me briefly, his face serious but oddly, no signs of anger or aggression in it.

‘‘Because your house isn’t safe anymore, y/n.’’ He said in a matter-of-fact way.

‘‘Those men knew where to find you. It won’t take long for others to figure it out too. At least at my place I can keep you safe.’’

He wanted to keep me safe?

I saw how his grip tightened around the steering wheel, and I thought to myself that he might be right. But I couldn’t let my guard down.

I began wondering if he actually wanted to keep me safe, or if he was trying to make me trust him enough to get rid of me when the right time came.

‘‘Who are you?’’ I managed to ask, my voice filled with uncertainty.

‘‘I’m Nanami Kento.’’ His gaze remained locked on the road ahead.

‘‘And I work for the Yakuza.’’ My breathing hitched as he spoke.

I had only heard of them, but I knew they were a group of people not to be messed with.

‘‘I'm the one who was assigned to kill those men tonight. And I'm the one who's going to ensure you’re safe.’’

Learning he was associated with the Yakuza confirmed my suspicions that he was a dangerous man, and I was even more doubtful on whether I should trust him or not.

I simply kept my gaze locked on the passing street lights, looking straight ahead, and nodded my head.

Although I couldn’t shake my head away from the thought of him being concerned for my safety.

Nanami noticed my reaction, and he looked over at me, his voice soft. "Don't worry, y/n. I won't hurt you. I'll give you my word."

The sincerity in his tone made it impossible for me not to believe him.

‘‘But I need you to trust me. Can you do that?’’

I turned my head to the side, locking my gaze with his.

Despite his intimidating aura, I felt a sense of security coming from him, and something reassured me he was speaking the truth.

‘‘I think so…’’ I replied quietly, a sliver of uncertainty still lingering in the air.

He nodded, a small smile playing across his lips.

‘‘Good. That’s all I ask for. For now’’.

He focused back on the road, navigating through the busy streets of Tokyo.

‘‘We’ll be at my place soon. You can relax now.’’

Finding relaxation difficult to achieve at the time, I simply turned my attention back towards the road.

I focused my gaze on the shiny neon street signs of the Tokyo streets, and I leaned my head to the side, resting it against the car window.

Nanami kept driving for a while, and the bouncing of the car was slowly lulling me to sleep, the exhaustion of the night's events catching up to me.

My eyelids started feeling heavy, and before I knew it, I was beginning to fall asleep against the glass.

He glanced over at me, noticing my slumped over position, and I felt his body lean over me, his forearm hovering over my lap and his hand reaching underneath my seat.

‘‘Here, lean back’’. The seat started to recline.

‘‘Get some rest, y/n. You’ve been through a lot tonight. I’ll wake you up when we get there.’’

I allowed myself to fall asleep, his presence being comforting enough for me to slowly relax, even though that seemed far-fetched just a few moments ago.

He drove carefully, trying not to disturb me.

After about 30 minutes, he pulled into the underground parking garage of his apartment building.

He turned off the engine, and looked at me, my eyes closed and a peaceful expression on my face.

‘‘Y/n, we’re here.’’ He said quietly, reaching out with his hand to gently shake my shoulder.

‘‘Wake up, Sweetheart.’’

Despite his efforts, I remained asleep, blissfully unaware of our arrival, going as far as to shake his touch away, grumbling in my sleep as I turned my back towards him, laying on my side on the car seat.

I wasn’t going to wake up any time soon.

Raising an eyebrow, a smirk played on Nanami's lips.

He unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over to unbuckle mine.

He got out of the car slowly, and headed over to where I was sitting, scooping me into his arms, cradling me against his chest.

‘‘Alright, sleepyhead. Let’s get you inside.’’ He pushed the car door closed with his knee, keeping me flush to his chest, his strong arms effortlessly supporting my weight.

Still deeply asleep, and unaware of the fact I was being carried, I unconsciously wrapped my arms around his neck, nestling up to him as he began walking.

A smile formed on his lips as he looked down at me on his lap.

‘‘That’s a good girl.’’

He carried me towards the elevator, pressing the button to the last floor.

The elevator door opened, and he walked down the hall to his apartment, balancing me in one arm while fishing his keys out of his pocket with the other.

With maximum precaution, he unlocked the door, stepping inside the apartment.

‘‘Let’s get you to bed.’’ He whispered, a warmth spreading through him.

He gently kicked the door closed with his heel, but he misjudged the force which caused it to slam shut with a loud thud.

I stirred in my sleep, my body jerking slightly at the loud noise.

My eyes slowly fluttered open, and I let out a yawn.

All was good until I realized I was in his arms, my eyes widening at the current situation.

‘‘Did I fall asleep?’’ Saying I was extremely flustered, was an understatement, my cheeks heating up instantly.

He let out a small chuckle.

‘‘You did. And you’ve been out like a light for the past hour.’’

‘‘I apologize that you had to carry me… You should’ve woken me up.’’ I uttered in a low voice, embarrassed.

‘‘I tried, Sweetheart.’’ I shivered at the pet name. ‘’It’s truly fine, y/n. I didn’t mind.’’ He smiled sweetly, and slowly began walking forward towards a door at the end of the hall.

‘‘Welcome to my home.’’ He says glancing around.

I rubbed the sleep off of my eyes, and mimicked his action, taking in the apartment's tasteful decor.

He was a wealthy man, I could immediately tell.

Surrounding me was a sleek, modern interior being illuminated by the soft glow of ambient lighting.

Polished marble floors stretched out beneath his feet, leading to a spacious living room adorned with contemporary art and luxurious furniture

Each step he took echoed slightly in the ample space.

I caught glimpses of the expensive items around us.

A crystal chandelier hanging elegantly in the center of the room.

A glass coffee table with a beautiful porcelain vase of what appeared to be fresh roses placed inside of it.

But the thing that caught my eye the most was a grand piano in the corner, its black lacquered surface glistening.

The walls were lined with various paintings, each piece more intricate than the other.

We moved deeper into the hallway, finally reaching the bedroom door at the end of it.

He pushed it open with his foot, revealing an equally luxurious bedroom with a large inviting bed right in the center of it, covered by plush, burgundy silk sheets.

The room was big but cozy, with the far left wall being covered by windows from the floor to the ceiling, offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline.

He sat me down gently on the bed, the silk sheets feeling just as comfortable as they appeared to be.

‘‘Here we are.’’ He spoke in a gentle tone, the threatening man I had met just a few hours prior completely gone by then.

‘‘How are you feeling?’’ He inquired, looking me up and down.

‘‘I’m okay.’’ I answered quietly, scooting back against the dark mahogany bed frame.

He took advantage of the free space, and sat down at the edge of the bed, studying me with his eyes, his expression concerned.

‘‘Are you hungry? Thirsty? I can get you something to eat or drink if you want.’’ His voice was soft, and his eyes were kind, an extreme contrast to what I had seen on that same face before.

I smiled at him, genuinely appreciative at the care he was demonstrating.

I enjoyed it.

‘‘Could you please get me a glass of water?’’ I didn’t want to be a nuisance, so I settled on something simple.

‘‘Of course, y/n. I’ll be right back.’’

He stood up from the bed and left the room, returning a minute later holding a glass of water.

‘‘Here you go.’’ The corner of his lips curled upwards into a smile as he handed me the glass, and he watched me as I took it from him, taking a sip.

‘‘Thank you, Nanami.’’

A thought crept into my head.

I set the glass down on the nightstand, and looked down at my lap, fidgeting with the hair tie on my wrist.

‘‘How long do I have to stay here?’’ I asked, my voice unsteady and full of concern.

Nanami sat down on the bed next to me, once more, his expression now serious.

‘‘Until I say it’s safe for you to leave.’’ He stared deeply into my eyes, his gaze unwavering.

‘‘I can’t risk you getting hurt.’’ Those words struck something in me, my eyes widening at his remark.

I had never had someone so set on protecting me, and although this feeling was odd it wasn’t unwelcome.

He continued speaking, his eyes now locked on the carpet under his feet.

‘‘It could be a few days. A week. Months. Maybe longer. I don’t know yet.’’

I continued fidgeting nervously with the hair tie on my wrist.

‘‘But I’m gonna miss work… I’ll get fired…’’

He reached out, gently taking the hair tie from my wrist, setting it on the nightstand.

He placed his index finger below my chin, and tipped it upward making me face him, a soft smile on his lips.

‘‘You’re not going back to work anytime soon.’’ He lowered his hand, and clasped my hands between his, the warmth radiating from his palms soothing me in a way I had never experienced before.

‘‘You’re under my protection now. And I don’t plan on letting you out of my sight until I can guarantee you’re safe.’’

Lowering my gaze once more, I exhaled deeply through my nose.

‘‘I have bills to pay, I can’t just miss work whenever I please.’’ I shake my head, refusing to come to terms with the conditions he was setting.

‘‘If I simply don’t show up tomorrow, I’ll for sure get fired.’’ My pessimistic thoughts were interrupted by both of his hands letting go of mine, and coming up to cup my cheeks, forcing my eyes to stare into his once more.

‘‘I’ll take care of your bills, y/n. Don’t worry about that.’’ He said reassuringly, his thumb gently grazing over my cheek.

Despite the surprise, I couldn’t help but lean into his touch, my eyes closing for a split second before I quickly opened them back up, realizing what I was doing.

He chuckled at my reaction, but continued speaking,

‘‘And as for your work, I’ll make sure they know you’re not coming in for an indefinite amount of time. They won’t fire you.’’ As ridiculous as it sounded, he seemed so sure of what he was saying I had no other choice but to believe him. ‘‘I have my ways.’’ He finally added, a smile forming on his lips.

My eyes narrowed slightly at that unsettling response, but I took a deep breath to calm my nerves.

I pulled my head away from his hands, his smile immediately fading as his lips parted in disappointment.

‘‘Why are you going through such lengths for me?’’ I inquired quietly, my head turning to the side.

‘‘I’m just a random girl that witnessed you murder a bunch of men with no remorse, why all of this?’’ I was grateful for his protection, and I couldn't deny that having this man so concerned about me felt good, but I was confused as to why it had been granted to me.

He placed his hand on my knee, slowly rubbing it up and down.

My breathing immediately failed me at that contact.

‘‘Because I said I would keep you safe, y/n. And i always keep my promises.’’ His eyes were burning into mine, an intensity to them like I had never witnessed.

‘‘Besides, you’re not just a random girl. You’re a girl who saw something she shouldn’t have. And I can’t let that slide.’’

I furrowed my brows, narrowing my gaze to go along with it.

‘‘So you’re just going to keep me locked in here forever to guarantee I stay quiet?’’ My voice had a slight tremble to it, but my tone grew more assertive.

‘‘Why don’t you just kill me like you did with those guys? No loose ends that way…’’ I trail off, exhaling deeply.

Nanami gasped quietly, his lips parted in awe and expression grew darker, almost as if he took offense to what I was suggesting.

‘‘Because I don’t kill innocent people, y/n. And you’re innocent.’’

He stood up from the bed, his large frame towering over me.

‘‘I gave you my word that I wouldn't hurt you. And I meant it.’’

He turned to leave, pausing at the door, his hand resting on the handle.

‘‘Get some rest. We’ll talk more in the morning.’’

‘‘Nanami, wait!’’ I tried to stop him, but before I could finish speaking, he was already gone, closing the door behind him.

Maybe I could’ve worded things better.

I was left completely alone with my thoughts in his room.

I figured I should just let things settle down by themselves, so I threw my body back, letting my back fall against the mattress, my arms and legs sprawled out over it.

It was a huge bed, even laying perfectly in its middle with my arms and legs out, I couldn't reach its edges.

A yawn escapes my lips, and I look over at the digital clock sitting on top of the nightstand.

11:56 PM

I decided that getting some sleep might be a good idea.

But sleeping in someone's bed wearing outside clothes, didn’t seem very polite.

I got up from the bed, and made my way to the big closet in the corner of the bedroom.

When opening it, I was confronted with coat hangers, upon coat hangers of expensive and high quality two piece suits.

I opened up a drawer, and a simple black t-shirt popped into view.

I took it out and stripped off my clothes, folding them neatly and placing them on an armchair close to the closet.

Slipping the t-shirt through my head, I walked over to the full length mirror in the opposite corner, and I stared at myself for a few seconds.

The t-shirt looked more like a dress on me.

Although it might’ve fit him perfectly, it was extremely oversized over my smaller body.

‘‘How the hell did I end up here?’’ I muttered to myself in disbelief, at the sight of me standing in a random mens bedroom, wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening.

I jumped in place, startled by the intrusion, and fumbled to cover my exposed legs.

‘‘What are you doing?’’ Nanami asked, his voice calm.

‘‘Nanami!’’ I exclaimed, embarrassed, reaching for the hem of the shirt to pull it down further.

‘‘I’m sorry for going through your closet, please don’t be mad, I wasn’t snooping or anything I just-’’

My rambling was interrupted by him, as he took a few steps forward until he was standing directly in front of me, his body towering over mine.

‘‘I didn’t want to bother you, I just didn’t want to get inside your bed wearing clothes from outside.’’

He stayed completely silent, just staring at me with a smirk on his lips.

I continued trying to justify myself, sounding more desperate for forgiveness, as if I had just committed the worst crime in the world.

‘‘I was just looking for something to sleep in and this t-shirt looked comf-’’

He pressed his index finger to my lips, effectively shutting me up, causing my breathing to hitch.

My gaze widened in shock, and I looked up at him with a panicked expression in my eyes.

The pounding in my chest was so strong, I felt as though my heart could jump out at any moment.

‘‘It's fine. You look good in my shirt.’’ I feel my cheeks immediately flush upon hearing the compliment.

His gaze was traveling up and down my body, and I didn't know how to feel about it.

He pulled his hand back, and just stood there staring at me, a fire burning in his eyes, drawing me in like a literal moth to a flame.

‘‘I should probably get in bed, it’s getting late.’’ I chuckle out nervously, clearly flustered.

He chuckled back, fully aware he was the reason for my flusteredness.

‘‘Before you go, I want you to do something.’’

He took a few steps back, the distance he created between us finally allowing me to breathe properly.

Stretching out his hand, he smiled affectionately.

‘‘Come with me.’’

Trusting him to guide me to whatever it was he wanted me to do, I placed my hand in his.

He wrapped his fingers around mine, and led me out the bedroom down the hall to the bathroom.

He flipped on the light, revealing a large luxurious bathroom with a walk in shower, and a claw foot tub.

His expression softened as he turned to me.

My mouth was agape, taking in my surroundings.

‘‘I want you to take a bath, y/n. You’ve been through a lot tonight.’’

He gestured towards the bathtub with his free hand, giving mine a gentle squeeze with the other before letting it go.

I was surprised at the gesture, but appreciative nonetheless.

In a silent thank you, I nodded my head and smiled at him as he headed towards the door.

‘‘I’ll leave you to it. Just call out if you need anything, alright?’’

I nodded my head once more, turning to the tub to reach for the faucet.

‘‘And y/n?’’

I turned my head to face him.

‘‘Try to relax. You’re safe here.’’ He threw me the warmest smile I had ever laid my eyes on.

Exuding so much affection and care I believed time stopped for a second as I stared at him.

I just stood there with my lips slightly parted, zoning out while he smiled at me.

I shook my head awake.

‘‘I will.’’ I said with a slight tremor to my voice.

Not out of fear.

But something else.

It had finally dawned on me that he was absolutely right.

I felt safe there.

I truly was safe there.

The door to the bathroom closed, and with it I let out a huge breath, one I didn't even realize I was holding.

Trying to shake away the odd feeling brewing in my chest, I turned on the faucet, letting the tub quickly fill up with warm water.

After putting some bubble soap in the tub, I stripped off his black t-shirt, and my underwear.

I put my hair up, and slid inside of the tub.

The water was the perfect temperature, and I let out a content sigh as it enveloped me in its warmness, washing away any remnants of the stress I experienced earlier.

I closed my eyes, and just layed in the tub for a while, basking in the vanilla scent emanating from the water, and letting its warm feel relax every muscle in my body.

As soon as my eyes were closed, I was flooded with images of Nanami coursing through my brain.

I was reliving how he carried me to his bed, how his hands felt gripping my body, how much heat was radiating off of him, how intoxicatingly alluring his cologne was, how… attractive he was.

No.

I opened my eyes back up, and splashed my face with water, as if it were capable of cleansing my mind of those thoughts.

Hopping out of the tub, I reached for a towel to dry off.

Being the clutz idiot I was, I knocked over a bunch of toiletries on the cabinet trying to grab it.

‘‘Shit.’’ I muttered, scrambling to wrap the towel around my body, and to grab everything that fell to the ground.

Not even 10 seconds later, there was a knock at the door.

‘‘Y/n? Are you okay in there?’’

‘‘Y-Yes, all good!’’ I said nervously, putting everything back where it originally was.

I opened the bathroom door, and was confronted by Nanami leaning against the frame, his arms crossed over his chest.

He didn’t have his suit jacket anymore, and his sleeves were rolled up, his toned arms on full display.

Jesus Christ, that man was immaculate.

He looked me up and down and swallowed hard, studying my frame.

‘‘Do you need anything? A change of clothes, maybe?’’ His stare was so intense, I couldn't avert my gaze from it.

And his voice was slightly hoarse.

As if somehow, seeing me like this was also affecting him in a way.

‘‘I have those, thank you.’’ Pointing towards the black tshirt, my voice cracked a little as I spoke out, evidence of my ever growing turmoil.

I felt my insides shiver at his reaction, feeling somewhat satisfied at how I was making him feel.

Also glad I wasn't the only one having strange thoughts.

I grabbed the clothes, and walked past him to his bedroom, taking a deep breath.

I had just met this man, but I simply couldn't deny how attracted to him I was starting to feel.

‘‘I’ll be in the guest room down the hall, if you need anything. Don’t hesitate.’’

My chest filled with warmth once more, still in disbelief as to how caring he was.

It made me feel safe.

Made me feel loved.

‘‘Goodnight, Nanami.’’ I whispered gingerly, waving from the door to the bedroom before closing it.

I exhaled profoundly following it up with some deep breaths to calm myself, the tension of that short interaction making my legs slightly tremble.

I let the towel go from my body, standing naked in the middle of the room just reflecting on the day's events.

I was extremely puzzled on how I ended up in that situation, but I wasn't complaining.

After all, no one had ever treated me with the level of care, thoughtfulness and concern he had.

I put my underwear back on, and slipped the black t-shirt over my head, it’s oversized fit now even more soothing than before.

The fact that it belonged to Nanami, for some reason, added another layer of comfort to it, almost as if he was there in the room with me.

‘‘I could get used to this.’’ The thought rolled out from my lips without me even realizing it.

I shook my head at what had just popped up in my brain, and quickly got in bed, covering my body with the soft silk sheet adorning his bed, trying to escape these ideas.

I placed my head over the pillow.

It smelled like his cologne.

Who was I kidding.

Truth was, I wished he was there in the room with me.

I thought about how his arms would feel around mine.

How his body would feel pressed against mine as we slept next to each other.

How his hands would feel trailing over my breasts, and exploring every inch of my body.

I felt my heartbeat increase inside my chest, my breathing growing erratic and my legs pressed together unconsciously, trying to deter the growing arousal forming between them.

I closed my eyes, expecting sleep to get me out of this situation.

In the midst of my futile attempts to fall asleep, I heard the door to my bedroom slowly open.

I remained perfectly still, believing facing Nanami in this state would only be embarrassing.

His footsteps grew closer, and I sensed his presence looming over me.

I felt the mattress dip next to me.

He sat down?

‘‘Y/n?’’ I hear him whisper quietly.

Silence.

I tried my best to pretend like I was asleep, hoping he would just leave the room.

I couldn’t bear to be this close to him, my heart was beating so fast it felt like I was about to have a heart attack.

I felt his hand rest on my head.

He started moving it back and forth, in a loving way.

What was he doing? And why was he doing it? I remained motionless, as he patted my head.

‘‘I shouldn’t be here.’’ I heard him whisper, probably assuming I wouldn't be able to hear it due to being asleep.

Except I wasn't asleep.

I was fully awake.

‘‘But I can’t seem to stay away.’’ He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, and resumed the head patting.

‘‘You’re like a magnet, pulling me in.’’

Little did he know, the feeling was mutual.

I just didn’t know how to approach it, or how to make it known.

I was never good with words.

Turning on my best acting skills, I fluttered my eyes open.

‘‘Nanami?’’ I asked in a fake sleepy voice with semi open eyes. ‘‘Everything okay?’’

He jolted his hand away, his expression panicked.

‘‘Go back to sleep, y/n. I just wanted to check on you.’’ Despite the panic in his face, his voice sounded calm.

The weight in the mattress shifted, and I watched him as he got up from the bed.

‘‘I didn’t mean to wake you.’’

He started walking towards the door.

I desperately wanted him to stay.

Desperately wanted him to know I needed to be around him as much as he needed to be around me.

‘‘Don’t leave.’’ I called out with a shaky voice.

He turned around, and focused his gaze on me, a confused look on his face.

I slowly tapped the spot next to me on the bed, praying to god the gesture would be enough to make him understand I wanted him laying next to me.

The thought of having to vocalize that idea was making me extremely nervous for some reason.

He looked at the spot next to me, then back at me.

He hesitated for a moment, before kicking off his shoes and buttoning off his shirt, lying down next to me.

Leaving some space between us.

So close, and yet, so, so far.

I couldn’t take it anymore, I needed to feel his body against mine again.

I scooted over closer to him, close enough that I was now nestled up to him, my body pressed against his, my head resting over his arm.

I heard a groan escape his lips, most likely not expecting this sudden move.

Not even I was expecting to be this bold, but I couldn’t handle it.

He looked down at me, and wrapped his arm around my body, pulling me closer, his hand resting on my hip.

His touch felt like electricity.

I knew I should have moved way from him, put some distance between us.

But I couldn’t.

Not when it felt that good.

Not when it felt that right, in his arms.

I perked my head up, resting my eyes on his, inadvertently flickering my gaze down to his lips.

I wanted to lean over and kiss him, so badly.

‘‘You’re making it really hard for me to resist you, y/n.’’ He confessed, his voice husky.

My lips parted by themselves, just as if they had gained a mind of their own, our eyes locked on one another.

His hand cupped my cheek, his thumb grazing lightly across my bottom lip.

‘‘Can I kiss you, y/n?’’

Instead of giving him an answer I leaned forward, pressing my lips softly against his.

It was a gentle kiss, almost exploratory, like I was testing the waters.

He immediately responded by kissing me back passionately, letting out a low moan, his tongue darting out to meet mine.

He kissed me hungrily, his hand coming up to tangle in my hair.

He rolled over, pinning me down beneath him, breaking the kiss only to trail his soft lips down my neck, licking and sucking at the skin.

‘‘Do you have any idea what you do to me, y/n?’’ He breathed out between kisses to my neck. "How badly I want you?’’

His hand slipped underneath my t-shirt, cupping my breast, his thumb circling over my nipple.

I gasped softly at the sensation, arching my back at his touch, feeling my nipples harden almost instantly.

‘‘Y-yes.’’ I managed to squeak out, my mind completely foggy with lust.

I inched my body upwards, closer to his touch, wanting more contact, needing to feel more of him.

His touch ignited a burning sensation inside of me, and I found myself craving more of it.

I could feel his erection pressed against my thigh, and I let out a shuddering breath at the realization of how turned on he was.

Of how hard he was because of me.

‘‘Kiss me, Nanami. Please.’’ I whimpered softly, eager for more.

His lips ghosted over mine, his voice low, like music to my ears.

"I’ll give you more than that.’’ He murmured against my lips, moving the hand circling my nipple lower, sliding it under my already soaked underwear.

I let out a soft moan as his fingers made contact with my wetness.

‘‘So responsive. Such a good girl.’’

He slid a finger inside me, pumping in and out slowly, his thumb rubbing circles on my clit.

My moans grew louder, encouraging him to keep going and not to stop.

He grinned against my mouth, adding another finger.

‘‘Just like that, Sweetheart, you’re taking my fingers so well.’’ He rasped, increasing the speed of his thrusts, curling his fingers up to hit that sweet spot inside.

My hips moved rhythmically against his hand, desperately seeking release, crying out in pleasure.

He captured my cries with his mouth, kissing me intensely, feeling me tightening around his fingers, my orgasm building.

‘‘That’s it, y/n. Come for me.’’ He commanded, his voice thick with arousal.

He increased the pace of his fingers, fucking me harder, deeper, my walls clenching around him, my breaths becoming shallow pants.

‘‘Oh god, Nanami’’. I cried out, my nails digging into his shoulders, as my climax crashed over me.

He continued to move his fingers in and out of me until my body stopped trembling.

Then he pulled them out, bringing them up to his mouth, sucking my juices clean.

He leaned over, capturing my mouth once again.

I could taste myself on him, salty and sweet, and it sent a jolt of electricity through me.

He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against mine, both of us breathing heavily.

He looked into my eyes, his pupils dilated with desire.

‘‘I need to be inside you, Sweetheart. Now.’’ He reached for his belt, undoing it quickly, along with his pants, freeing his hardness.

He stroked it a couple of times, his gaze locked with mine.

I nodded eagerly, my core throbbing in anticipation of having him inside of me.

I spread my legs wider, welcoming him, and my hands grabbed onto his shoulders, pulling him closer.

‘‘Please, Nanami,’’ I begged, desperate to surround him.

He positioned himself between my legs, teasing my entrance with the head of his length.

He leaned down, pressing his lips to mine in a searing kiss as he thrust into me, filling me completely.

We both moaned into eachothers mouths, the sensation overwhelming.

He began to move, slowly at first, allowing me to adjust to his size.

‘‘Are you okay?’’ He inquired, concern etched on his face.

I nodded, wrapping my legs around him, urging him to continue.

‘‘Yes, I’m fine’’ I gasped between breaths, my head thrown back and my nails digging into his shoulders with each thrust. "Please, don’t stop.’’

He began to fasten his pace, each movement accompanied by a slapping sound.

‘‘God, you feel so good, y/n.’’ He grunted, his voice thick with lust.

He reached down, his fingers tightly gripping my hips, holding me in place while he nibbled on my neck, his teeth leaving marks as he moved in and out of me, setting a rhythm that had me moaning his name, begging for more.

His thrusts became quicker, his breathing hoarse.

He lowered his hand between my legs, and began rubbing my clit in circles, his thumb pressing down with just the right amount of pressure.

His thumb worked in perfect rhythm with his movements, the combination of the two setting off a fire inside of me, the heat building up with each of his strokes.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me.

My forehead was resting against his, my eyes fixed on his, silently pleading for more, for him to take me harder, to make me his completely.

His other hand slid up to cradle my head, holding me in place as he pressed his lips against mine.

‘‘You’re so wet for me.’’ He growled between kisses, his voice a low rumble.

The sensation of his cock filling me completely, coupled with the way his thumb was rubbing against my clit was almost too much to handle.

I arched my back upwards, offering myself to him, my hips bucking with more urgency.

‘‘I want to feel you come for me again.’’ He demanded, his voice dripping with need.

I nodded, my moans growing louder, my body trembling.

I could feel it building up quickly, that familiar tension coiling low in my belly.

His thrusts and fingers worked in perfect unison, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.

My breaths came in pants, my legs began to spasm slightly, signaling my impending climax.

‘‘That’s it, y/n. Let go for me.’’ The guttural sound of his voice was the catalyst for my release, as I felt my orgasm rip through me once again, my body shaking with pleasure.

He watched me, never letting his movements falter, as they became more erratic.

His grip around my hair tightened, his other hand still massaging my clit as he claimed my mouth for his own, his kisses messy and rough, a testament to how close to the edge he really was.

‘‘Fuck, I’m so close Sweetheart.’’ He groaned, a droplet of sweat falling down from a blond lock dangling from his forehead onto my cheek.

He pulled out for a moment, positioning himself at my entrance once more, his erection glistening with my juices.

He thrust back into me, his grip on my hips tightening as he began to move, his strokes slower but full of intensity.

‘‘Look at me’’ He commanded, lifting my chin up with his finger. "I want you to look at me as I come inside of you.’’

I obeyed, my eyes meeting his, dark and intense as he continued to thrust into me.

I could see the raw desire and need in his gaze.

He was close, his breaths coming in uneven pants, his grip on my hips tense, but gentle.

‘‘Come on, y/n, look at me.’’ He traced my bottom lip with his thumb before slowly placing it inside of my mouth. "I want to see those beautiful eyes of yours when I claim you completely.’’

I couldn't even think to look away, feeling vulnerable yet cherished in his gaze.

My body quivered with each thrust, my heart pounding in my chest, my mind hazy with lust.

I could feel his control slipping and the tension in his muscles as he fought to hold on, but the moment was too intense to resist.

His face was contorted in pleasure, his jaw clenched tight as his eyes pierced into mine.

Nanami’s eyes fluttered shut, leaning down he captured my lips in a final passionate kiss as I felt his body shudder from his climax, filling me up completely with his seed, his cock pulsing inside of me.

He let out a low growl, his breathing heavy and his face flushed with exhaustion.

He collapsed on top of me, his body draped over mine, his face buried in the crook of my neck, where he planted soft kisses.

His fingers trailed down my arm, his thumb rubbing circles on my skin.

I could feel his heartbeat, fast and erratic, against my chest as he laid over it.

His breathing slowly regained its usual rhythm, his body still shuddering from the aftershocks of his orgasm.

His eyes fluttered open, and he looked up at me with a newfound tenderness.

‘‘Are you alright?’’ He asked, his voice a gentle murmur against my skin.

He slowly began to pull out of me, his gaze never leaving mine.

He trailed a finger over my cheek, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

‘‘You’re beautiful.’’ He whispered, his thumb brushing against my lips before moving to cup my face gently.

His words left me flustered and a warmth I’d never experienced before began to spread through my chest.

He shifted from his position, laying down behind me, pulling me close.

He wrapped an arm around my waist, his body warm against mine.

His arm around me felt comforting, protective, like nothing could ever harm me, and I found myself slowly drifting off to sleep.

His fingers idly traced shapes on my hip, the warmness coming from his body enveloping me in a soothing embrace.

In the dim light of the room, we both laid there, our breathing slowly evening out, the tension from earlier replaced by a peaceful silence and a newfound sense of connection that seemed to pull us even closer together.

#jjk x reader #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #nanami smut #kento nanami #jjk smut #jjk fanfic #nanami x y/n #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento #jjk kento #jujutsu smut #jujutsu kaisen

179 notes · View notes

tlouwhore · 10 months ago

Text

my heart is thrilled by the still of your hand, prt.2 — farmhouse e.w.

notes: basically just smut, 18+, pet names (mama, baby, babe, love), eating out, switch!ellie, soft, praise, strap on, slow/romantic sex, farmhouse!ellie who is so in love with you, very loosely inspired by no plan by hozier, ive never written smut so...also guys i need to lock in for finals but all i can think about it having sex with ellie

part 1

ellies tattooed hand snakes to find a spot on your hip, squeezing lightly against it prompting a soft hitch to your breath giving her ample opportunity to slip her tongue delicately into your warm mouth. finding comfort in your sweet breath as the kiss continued in a slow yet sloppy manner.

“els…i need you” your lips mere inches from hers, foreheads pressed against each other. breath tangled and exchanged in the hastily darkening air as she gazes at you with a loving hunger in her eyes, familiar and beautiful.

“i know, babe” she whispered as if scared that if she spoke too loud you would disappear from her desperate grasp, her hand quickly seeking to tangle back into yours. her palms slightly sweaty as she now gently drags you into the house. opting for the couch merely feet from the door as you lightly push her onto it and crawl into her lap quickly finding your lips to hers like magnets. as the kiss deepens and morphs you can feel her hasten quickly signaling she wants exactly what you do, it's your turn to chuckle at her quickened hunger as you feel her shift uncomfortably knowing her ever-growing wet spot threatens to seep through her boxers. you tug lightly at the hem of her loose shirt, lightly brushing the pads of your fingers over her stomach, familiar and soft despite it all. she hesitantly breaks the kiss to drag her shirt off, her breasts exposed upon removal. every time you see them your gaze falls to them in admiration as if the mona lisa is engraved into her, taking her in as if she were to dissolve if you blinked.

admiring the beauty of her soft and supple breasts, slowly grazing your tongue over her erect nipple cascading the effects of a euphonious whimper to escape her lips; the pure love felt to her in that moment unmatched, all your worries washed away as your priorities were on her breasts. her pleasure. her body. her freckled chest adored with scars. her.

she whines your name desperately as she looks to find an anchor on your body. showing love to her exposed upper body, your lips laying claim to her sun damaged shoulders and collar. your hands slowly dragging across her exposed arms, over her scars and chemical burn, planting an individual kiss to each nail before attending to her lower body.

loosely slipping onto a seated ground position, the rough carpet welcoming your planted knees as you spread her legs. instantly leaving her to fumble with her button to unclasp it as you offer aid in removing her remaining clothes until her body is displayed to you.

"can i?" a soft smile tugs at your lips watching her admiration for your beauty grow

"if you take off something first" she laughs slightly when saying it but quickly flicks her full attention to your unclothed chest, your bra the only clinging item to your upper body.

"better?" your smile illuminates your features, you've never looked more beautiful to her than when you smile. each moment that passes she loves you more than the world, looking to you as a beacon in the darkness.

"yes." as her words left her mouth in her sweetened tone soaked with love you began to trail your way up her thighs with your lips. leaving gentle whispers of love against her skin. her throat emanating your name in whispers like a prayer as you approach her leaking pussy, her clit puffy with arousal as she seeks friction from the air.

gently licking against her clit as her desperate attempt to stifle a moan fails, her body releasing a guttural sound as you continue to work slowly and starved. her saccharine slick leaking onto your face, coating your soft tongue and blushed skin. you push her leg further up, her knees nearing her chest as you continue to deepen your devotion. she's needy and whining under your tender lips and tongue, continuing to make contact with her dripping cunt. a wet spot forming largely on the familiar couch cushion below, her eyes hooded in lust. desperately trying to keep her eyes locked to your gaze and delicate worship of the flattening of your tongue, engulfing her clit with the texture drag it before laying tapered circles to it. her whimpers and moans fast and needy, head dazed in pleasure. slowly dragging your finger to meet her clenching hole, dipping a single finger gently in. she coils forward slightly before thrashing back to the couch, muttering swears like a mantra that is half lost by her groans.

"fuck baby, just like that" is all she can push past her lips, mouth agape as her breath floods out in tangent with her quickening heart. her voice is diluted in pleasure and as messy as her cunt. slowly implementing an additional finger as she leaks out onto your hand causing another fit of swears, a new wave of pleasure seizing through her body. slowly dragging your fingers in and out in tandem with your heatened breath against her delicate clit, your tongue searching the terrain. her high quickly approaching as you feel her tense around you, her reactions more visceral as you help her come undone. a clench around your fingers as you continue gently through her high, her hands gripping at whatever she can grasp stars falling into her eyes. her gaze meeting your face as you remove your fingers from her needy cunt, admiring the soft moons gentle touch to you coated in her slick. taking your wet fingers and softly dipping them into your mouth, releasing the nectar into your mouth like a sacred sip of the lord's wine.

"m'god mama...." her voice hushed in a sacred high "so fucking beautiful, let me take care of you please" eyes glinting in a desire of her deepest devotions. a smile painting your moist face as you reply

"please," is the only hushed praise that can exit your lips as you stand, her hands seeking a perfect opportunity to drag your bottoms down your plush thighs. kicking them off as they hit your feet to aid her as she stands to join you, unclasping the metal hook on the back of your bra laying kisses down your exposed shoulders and neck.

"stay here for me" her breath hits your warm skin

"anything" her nude form trailing out of the room momentarily, the moon and stars kissing her body. her return was swift, her silicone cock hanging from her shifting hips as you greedily walked to meet her.

"needy, aren't you?" she playfully smiles meeting your tender lips in a slow kiss, pushing your body back to the couch.

"lay down for me, baby" her lips still mere inches from yours, refusing to let her touch leave you for too long. you abide by her devout comment. knees slightly bent as you lay supine, dripping cunt displayed like a portrait in the lourve. she kneels against the unclothed altar of your hips, brushing the silicone tip against you looking to you for permission.

"i'm ready, els" you reach your hand to find hers, quickly finding her hand laced in yours gently placing your enclosed hands to the couch cushion beside your head. her free hand delicately aligning with your needy body, slowly pushing in an inch as she searches your beautiful face for any sign of pain. you meet her with a squeeze to her hand and a nod, encouraging her to push her length deeper. she cautiously bottoms out in you as you meet her with a moan.

"oh my god..." is all that you can push out, her body still giving you time to adjust to her before lovingly fucking into your cunt, her eyes stuck to yours. she can't help but admire your flushed face, the pleasured details relaying across your ever so perfect form.

"so good for me" soft praises leaving her lips as she continues to push into you, a religious message in the swift breath of her love. her free hand trailing your whole body, unable to soak you in enough before she meets her calloused fingers to your sensitive clit. the pads of her fingers laying claim to your needy bundle of nerves, slow circular swoops creating a perfect storm of pleasure. desperate whines escaping your lips, breathing hitching whenever you meet her deepened gaze. unable to peel her eyes from the warmth of your emanating face. her hands working as skillfully as her hips, pushing in deep and soft, hitting every part of your soft walls combining with the fervor of her diligent hands.

"taking me so well, mama" painting landscapes on your puffed in pleasure clit, your body a beautiful art piece to her mere existence. eyes tracing the curvature of your body, groans escaping her lips as the base of the strap hits her clit. your sweet whispers of lust egging on her movement, unable to define the truth of her devouring love for you. you clench against her and release a rasping moan.

"m gonna cum, els" broken whispers interrupted by the sharp pleasure in your core.

"cum for me, baby. cum all over my dick for me" she rasps as her hips reaching deeper, your angelic form consuming her in entirety. your orgasm encroaching deeply, her eyes fixed to yours as they threaten to roll back in pleasure.

"come on mama, you can do it" a creamy white accumulation of your slick coating the base of her silicone cock as she works you through your orgasm.

"i've got you, just a little more" she coaxes as she slows, gently pulling herself from your tender cunt and unlacing your fingers from hers. a slight whimper erupting at the emptiness of contact. your eyes hooded with a tired love, a half smile sloppily draped on your lips admiration consuming your observations of her diligent hands pulling off the harness.

"everything good, love?"

"s'good" your smile growing slightly as you push yourself to sit up

"lets go get ourselves cleaned up, mama." she chuckles at your pleasured expression replacing her hand in yours, you instantly locking onto her. making your way to the bedroom, your body slightly leaned to hers. linked forms finding the dresser, shuffling through the cloth as she searches for a soft outfit for you. her hands fastidiously helping your silk body with the clothing, pulling the waistband up and adjusting your out of place hair. quickly trailing to the bathroom grabbing a wet cloth to wipe your face, a residue of her sweet slick lightly adorning your chin and lips.

"els...what about the mess we made?"

"i'll worry about that, beautiful. I need to be with you now, the couch can wait." slowly slipping on a loose shirt and lightly pushing you by the small of your back to the bed, the soft duvet opening its arms for you. her body slowly following, pulling you flush to her as she leaves gentle kisses across your sleep-ridden face.

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dreamauri · 1 year ago

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♪ — 𝗕𝗥𝗨𝗦𝗛 𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗢𝗞𝗘𝗦 lando norris x girlfriend! reader (fluff) “. . . during spending time with your boyfriend on the beach, you decide to use his face to express art”

( my master list | more of lando ) ( requests | taglist )

"It's cold!" Lando shouted childishly over as he walked out of the water. "It's cold." He repeated annoyed as he walked towards where you sat looking past your canvas at your boyfriend. The sun was blazing hot and for some reason, Lando decided he wanted to go for a swim instead of sitting indoors.

"It's cold." He said for the third time, sitting beside you on the warm sand, pouting. You chuckled, setting the drying painting canvas on the sand in front of you. Pulling a towel from beside you, Lando leaned closer as you gently dried his face, fluffing his hair.

"I'm col-" "Lan, I don't control the weather." "That's not how its supposed to go!" He laughed, pulling you in his chest. "Can you be my portable heater?"

"That's the worst pick up line I've ever heard!" You complained playfully, trying to squirm out of his hold. "You're going to get me wet." "Oh no. My bad, my love." Lando said sarcastically, getting to his feet and pulling you into his chest, dragging you to the water.

"Lando no!" You laughed, momentarily getting out of his arms before he lifted you off your feet jumping into the water with you. Cuss words spilled from your mouth from the shock of the temperature, which only prompted your boyfriend to drag you further in till the water reached up to your shoulder length.

And for the next 40 minutes, you two chased each other, splashing and throwing each other ( well lets be honest, mostly him throwing you ). You were able to get out of the water once you chased Lando, winning a splash fight.

Plopping down at your reserved spot, you dry Lando's face and hair again, who only watches you with a smile. "Why you smiling at me like that?!" You laugh pushing him away. "What?! I can't smile anymore?" He teased, holding your wrist and pulling you into a soft kiss.

"No." You put your tongue out, kissing his cheek. The brunette face cried in pain, laying on his back clutching his heart. "Stop being a baby!" You laughed, smudging some of your paint on his nose.

"Not red!" He shouted panicked, seeing the colour on his face, wiping it out quickly in a towel, making you laugh your ass off for the next five minutes, with him telling you its not funny.

"Anything but red!" He protested folding his arms and shaking his head ( vaguely reminding you of the time when a fan left a Ferrari cap on his table, and him trying to push it away without touching it ). "Anything but red?" You asked again once you calmed down.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"I've become a canvas." Lando smiled widely giggling, taking a video of himself with you sitting beside him, gently painting on his cheek. "Stop laughing, you're going to ruin it." You scolded him, absolutly concentrated on the image you were generating, the occasional giggle escaping your lips.

"Ruin what? You wont even let me see what you're drawing." He chuckled trying to keep his face still ( failing miserably), which made you chuckle in return, kissing him gently before going back. Lando smiled at the camera, only being able to tell colours of orange, blue, white. Maybe more colours, he couldn't tell because of the setting sun and darkening sky.

Unbeknownst to him, you were painting Lando's first win celebration. A huge smile on your face once you finished the details on his helmet.

The video and the painting + the human canvas ofc and the artist hugging the breathing canvas, were posted later that day. Lando didn't want to erase the painting, crying after you force-wiped the chemicals of his stained cheek.

You lived for memories like these.

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organsoutsidelovinglydescribed · 11 months ago

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Body Horror Week Prompts Are Live!

Welcome to Trigun Body Horror Week 2024!

We’ve set up a week of fantastic flavors of bodily horrors for you, and here is our official post sharing the prompts for you to cook with.

Body Horror Week is going to run from Feb 11th, 2024 until Feb 17th, 2024

For each set of prompts, we have an organ, two different songs, and a quote to inspire you into making the best horrors you’ve got.

The official hashtag for the week is #trigunbodyhorrorweek, and we’ll do our best to reblog your submissions the day of and whatever we may have missed during the week, we’ll reblog after. Feel free to tag us as well!

An AO3 collection is forthcoming.

There’s a copy of the prompts list below the cut, as well as links to the A-Sides and B-Sides for the music.

The art for the graphic was done by the wonderful @hashtagcaneven

Link for the music A-Sides and the B-Sides as playlists. Spotify playlist here.

Feb 11th: Eyes | Mama – My Chemical Romance | Mask of My Own Face – Lemon Demon | I hate it when humans and augmented humans ruin things for no reason. Maybe because I was a thing before I was a person, and if I’m not careful, I could be a thing again. - Network Effect, Martha Wells (Murderbot Diaries)

Feb 12th: Skin | This Body – The Dear Hunter | Hurt – Johnny Cash | Skin against skin, blood and bone / You’re all by yourself, but you’re not alone / You wanted in, and now you’re here / Driven by hate, consumed by fear – “Bodies”, Drowning Pool

Feb 13th: Lungs | Sin Eater – Penelope Scott | Between Two Lungs – Florence + the Machine | I remember seeing myself splayed across the floor of the kennel, a chimera split along a hundred seams, taking communion with a handful of dogs. - The Things, Peter Watts

Feb 14th: Heart | Love Me Dead – Ludo | Your Body, My Temple – Will Wood | The heart wants what it wants. What it wants is blood. - Welcome to Night Vale Twitter

Feb 15th: Limbs | Blood – My Chemical Romance | Body – Mother Mother | Pluck that crimson orb rusted package from the branches mother’s arms our tree you’ve chopped away at for too long with your mouth-bright ax pretty-teethed boy. - “A Brother Named Gethsemane”, Natalie Diaz

Feb 16th: Intestines | Void – Melanie Martinez | Blood on My Name – The Brothers Bright | It is a corpse rotting slowly from within while maggots writhe in its belly. - Warhammer 40k

Feb 17th: Alien | Roots – In This Moment | sprorgnsm – superorganism | To be trapped, unmoving, within the body that has betrayed her so often, feeling every sensation as it grows and warps and sprouts, never knowing what new mutation it will visit on her next. - The Magnus Archives, Episode 171, "The Gardener"

#trigun #trigunbodyhorrorweek #trigun maximum #trigun stampede #trigun 98 #trigun events #vash the stampede #fandom events

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fullofbees · 4 months ago

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Anon requested Diavolo with prompt 76 from the smut prompt list.

CW: Sexually suggestive, nothing else!

»»----------► GN!Reader

"Young Master...? Young Master!" Barbatos's voice calls down the hallway.

The closet smells of chemicals and ancient dust, though it is too dark to read any labels. Diavolo has silenced you with a hand over your mouth, holding you in place as footsteps near your hiding spot. You try to will your wildly beating heart into silence when they stop in front of the door.

One moment... and then another... until you hear the butler sigh heavily and continue down the hall. You can feel Diavolo relax, letting out his own sigh of relief. You take hold of his hand, remove it from your mouth, and spin to face him.

"Forgive me, I may have been running from my work," he whispers, though his apology does little to hide his excitement at not getting caught.

You're silent with awe. Diavolo's golden eyes shine through the darkness, his irises glowing softly, reminding you of the wide-eyed nocturnal creatures back home. You try to step closer to get a better look, but your foot collides with a bottle and nearly trips you.

Diavolo quickly steadies you before bending down and moving the offending bottle out of the way. You hear him fidget with a few other items, setting them on the shelves beside you.

"Are you... able to see?" You ask, watching the disembodied eyes of the demon look up at you.

"Yes...?" He responds, eyes narrowing when his brow furrows in confusion as he stands up.

Without thinking, you reach out and make contact with his torso. You carefully pad your way up his chest until you can finally feel the warmth of his neck. His eyes are ever watchful, ever curious, never daring to part from your face. Even as your hands briefly trace his jawline, Diavolo waits with bated breath, eager for your next move.

Cradling his face, you make the future demon king hunch down to your level. You turn his head this way and that, inspecting his eyes from each angle, watching as the light waxes and wanes within them.

"Absolutely fascinating," you whisper, "None of the brothers' eyes glow like this. Is this typical of all natural-born demons?"

He nods, the action making you giggle when your hands move with him.

"Has this not been covered in RAD's anatomy class? I'll have to adjust the curriculum-"

You boldly cut him off, "It has. I had yet to see it firsthand. It's gorgeous."

"I'm happy to hear that you think so," Diavolo says, the burning of his reddening cheeks heating the skin of your palms, "Please, feel free to look as long as you like."

"Just look?" You ask with a teasing tone.

His wonderful laugh rumbles in his chest, and though he regretfully removes himself from your appreciative touch, it is rectified when his hands find your waist to hold your hips flush against his. "Barbatos can't be upset if I'm helping our dear exchange student with a private anatomy lesson."

Your laughter joins his, followed by a light gasp when his hands slide to the back of your thighs. He picks you up like it's nothing, pressing you against the wall with your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Even through the layers of your uniforms, you can still feel the heavy outline of Diavolo's hard cock pulsing between your legs.

"Do I turn you on that much?"

You already knew the answer. He does a terrible job of pretending he isn't undressing you in his mind whenever you walk into a room. It's funny how quickly he comes undone with one compliment from you; but you promise to use your powers responsibly. Still, you want to hear him say it.

"You don't even fucking know," he groans, rolling his hips so you can feel every needy inch of him.

•••✦ ❤ ✦••• Submit A Request | Read on AO3 •••✦ ❤ ✦•••

A/N: Another flirty intro for another gentle giant lmao

#fullofbeeswrites #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me diavolo #obey me diavolo x reader #obey me diavolo x mc #obey me diavolo smut

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trashmouth-richie · 8 months ago

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the raven told me of you

eddie x female reader

crafted from this prompt list by: @bettyfrommars @somnambulic-thing @allthingsjoeq

summary: eddie is released after six months of being behind bars with a false identity, he was never lonely because you were there with him, until you weren’t. now, coming home to a new life with his old name granted back to him. he navigates flashbacks, and trying to settle back in with wayne in private protective seclusion, alone— or is he?

8.1k

tw: 18+ angst. fluff of a new relationship, light smut— s1, s4 canon events with reader inserted into the timeline, mentions of insanity, death, witness protection, government cover-ups etc. this could be a continuation or stand alone fic of your touch but is not necessary to read.

releasing: thursday 3/7

Owens’ worked his charms. The government covered up the mass hysteria and pinned the murders of Chrissy, Patrick and Fred on an accidental chemical reaction from arsenic, radiation and terpenoids. The results left their bones liquified from the toxic lick of acid and torqued before solidifying once again.

The Hawkin’s Post called it ‘a combination of sickly tainted water from the school cafeteria.’

Parents were urged to have their children tested at the local clinic for extra precautions, and thankfully no one else had been affected.

On Thursday the Eighteenth of September, at approximately 1300 hours… an hour into quiet personal time, Mr. Edward Munson, was once again, a free man.

At first he thought it was possibly a mistake, a horrifying joke fed by his many delusions. But when they called him into the warden’s office, he sat across an oak desk from a tall man with a skin bald head, shining like a lightbulb.

He used Eddie’s full name—not the persona he was given— and gave him ten minutes to collect his belongings. It was then he came to realize that maybe he wasn’t crazy after all.

Six long months in the clink with his brain spinning hallucinations beyond his control he wasn’t sure if he’d come out of it without a government issued lobotomy— and in the blink of an eye, it came to an abrupt end.

Prison was cold, unwelcoming in shades of gray coating the ceilings, walls, floors, any service imaginable. As if there was one color sanctioned to the American Prison system and gray was the less costly option.

Concrete was probably more pliable than his bed was. The food was impeccable— if you were a raven on a mealworm diet. It was just shy of hell, and it made the inhabitants calloused to a helping hand or squirreling away from making friends.

Seven months prior, Eddie was in his prime. For the first time in his life he was happy with where he was at, school was almost over and he had a true chance of walking the stage of graduation.

And you, he had you.

Beautiful, charismatic, sweet you.

It was almost like he conjured you up himself with a hard roll against a plyboard table of a twenty sided dice. Mesmerizing eyes that seemed to shimmer in any light, a smile that could soften Medusa’s rocky stare. You were perfect.

The first time his eyes laid on you was across the cafeteria. Everyone moved with the mundane routine, but you were shining like a spotlight had been placed on you overhead.

Your soft skin beckoned him like a moth to a flame. Smooth as silk, and he started to wonder what would your flesh feel like in his hands…would you cower away from their roughness?

His mind raced, and his heart pumped firmly whenever you walked past him, you smelled like ripe fruit, warming by the sun, and Eddie began to understand why Eve was tempted so easily.

And so began the daily task of seeking you out. He was able to spot you like Waldo amongst the boring gray faces of every other girl.

You shone like a gem, a sapphire filled with the darkest of depths, and like an enthusiast to your craft, he wanted to know the breadth of your soul.

His gem.

It was by total chance that he stumbled upon you after months of stray glances. He was walking backwards, yelling to Gareth about being on time for Hellfire that night, when he bumped into something that yelped in surprise.

It was you.

Sprawled and landing hard on your butt. Papers scattered from the collision of your face mashing into a denim patchwork vest.

He stumbled over your feet, falling beside you in a mess of curls and cigarettes, the one between his lips still intact. Your eyes met his for the first time, and that’s all it took for him to fall head over feet, in this case Reeboks, Eddie was a goner.

Your smile spread a warmth in his chest that he had never felt before. And your laugh? Made his knees physically weak.

He still didn’t know how he managed to swing it, but he charmed you into agreeing to a ride home. Conversation came easy with you. You were sweet yet comical, a bit of a smart ass. He was grinning like an idiot.

Chatting about books, then music, he bantered back and forth, teasing on your choice of horror, astounded in your tastes— but nevermore, he was enthused, enamored.

Witty and shit giving, you had him wrapped around your finger before the van pulled in front of your place. A permanent dimple pecked into his cheek that wouldn’t subside no matter how hard he tried.

A ten digit number exchanged on lined paper was the start of the end. A corny fist pump and a pep talk on his jaunt back to the trailer park.

Eddie was living on cloud nine.

He called you that night, foregoing any dumb advice he had seen in movies or heard at school at waiting a certain amount of days or hours, he went on pure instinct alone, and almost threw up all over himself after punching the last number.

You answered with your name after saying a proper greeting and he stumbled over his own tongue before choking out that it was him.

“Sorry who?” you had teased, Eddie’s heart fell into his stomach with relief when you giggled on the other end, “are you calling to sell me some boy scout popcorn, because cheddar is my favorite… but for you I might just buy a tin of caramel.”

A heart laugh erupted from his trailer, loud and barking. “Boy Scouts weren’t really my thing, princess.”

“Ah,” you reasoned, “knots too hard?”

He laughed again, that damn dimple achingly prominent as he smiled through the receiver, and you swore you could hear his cheeks squeak, “something like that.”

An hour had passed and Eddie found himself in the snares of coiled phone cords as he wore a pattern from his bedroom to the kitchen, fiddling with things left on the counter. Even going so far as to start a load of laundry and empty the sink.

You too were in the trenches, living solely on the scraps of information of Eddie’s life that he tossed to you like a pigeon in a park.

He was smart, filled with colossal amounts of knowledge on anything from cars, to reading sheet music. He had an ear for rhythm, cocky enough to have you hum a tune so he could pick up on it, and add to it. Eddie was a closeted genius under the untamed curls.

“Shit— I’m talking too much, huh? " he asked after a long winded speech about a campaign he was planning for the freshman in Hellfire. “I get carried away sometimes,” he admitted with a chuckle, a ripple of embarrassment heating over his body in a wave.

“Not at all,” you eagerly replied, “tell me more about Kas!”

“Well princess, I could show you, if you wanted?” He prayed you’d say yes, to whom or what he was praying to— hewasn’t sure, just crossed fingers and pinched his eyes shut in hopes that you wouldn’t think he was some loser yanking his dick to figurines and elf lore.

But you didn’t, you had said yes faster than he finished asking. And from there— it was history.

He went to bed with a spinning head and a heart wrapped in lace, sugar coated with your sweet voice in his ear, the same lopsided grin he had worn since tripping over you at school.

—

Stepping out into the first breath of freedom, the sun felt heavy on his skin. It itched his arm hairs, the heat touching his neck for the first time in years since he grew out his hair. The brightness stung his eyes.

He had become accustomed to the hollowing sag of fluorescent lights paling his skin to almost translucency, a true dracula in the pits of a four walled hell.

A croaked caw is loud overhead, singular— followed by a fluttering of wings, and the bend of a tree limb.

The clothes he wore didn’t feel like him, the ripped cotton Hellfire shirt wasn’t clean coming in and wasn’t clean coming out, Shredded where the demobats feasted on him like a hotdog at a ball field.

His jeans stunk of decay and murky water from the gate. Caked with mud, dried several times in the days of being on the run, the jeans chafed his skin raw, gnawing on his leg hairs until they popped free, giving up the fight.

A manila envelope held his rings, clashing together in a melodic tone. He slotted them one by one on the correct fingers, yet they felt loose, heavy and familiar all at once.

He was ready to pitch the envelope into a trash bin when he felt something else in the bottom, having to rip it apart to get to whatever was inside. When the ground was littered next to his waterlogged Reeboks, and his palm held the small silver item, his eyes brimmed with tears.

—3

The nightly phone calls soon turned to walks around the trailer park, Eddie listening intently as you strolled around the driveway, kicking up little clouds of dirt or catching the occasional rock with the toe of your sneaker.

He matched your steps, learning about your passions after graduation, how you favored sweets over salty treats, and the embarrassing truth of how after your friend Barb went missing, you didn’t have any friends at school.

“Well, now you have me,” he chirped earnestly, dark eyes squinting in the setting sun as he knocked his elbow with yours, a smirk on his lips, “I’ll take care of ya.”

It was as simple as that, and the easiness of it made your nose tingle with a burn as you fought back tears at his kindness.

Weeks of walking with you after school round and round Forest Hills— the scenery started to change.

The emerald grass faded into sharp tawny weeds. Foliage turned the color of autumn and the air began to crisp and chill.

It was then, on a windy Tuesday afternoon, that Eddie invited you into his home, he made sure to kick dirty laundry under his bed, hide the Playboys in the closet behind an old pair of shoes and empty the heaping ashtrays the night beforehand.

A jewel in a shit shack— you equally looked out of place and fit in with the cluttered belongings of his uncles at the same time.

“My castle.” he announced, bending low and holding the door open like a gentleman.

He showed you around the small square footage, taking less than fifteen seconds to point everything out.

“And that?”

“That’s.. my room.”

It was silly then, how nervous he was to let you into his space, even though during your walks you acquired everything there was to know about him.

—

Snow was on the ground when your after school routine of going to Eddie’s was as second nature to you as breathing.

You were sitting on his unmade bed atop the rumpled comforter and soft sheets, socked toes dangling from the side of the mattress. A textbook balanced in your lap, pencil between your teeth. Your eyebrows pinched in a studied strain as you tried to solve a calculus formula.

His voice had startled you, not sure when he had gotten up or how long he was standing at his desk, looking almost sick.

“Got something.. for you.. something dumb that I saw.”

He tried his damndest to be cavalier. But Eddie was everything but.

Ten dollars in quarters, more hours than he had spent in a pizza joint ever, and a hoard of tiny plastic containers from a machine holding costume jewelry, he had finally gotten what caught his eye.

A silver ring adorning a bat with an indigo colored stone in the center. It didn’t come close to the actual beauty you possessed but the blue stone reminded him of the way you moved through the crowd that day, like a rare gem.

Tired eyes focused on him, a nervous little twitch in his body didn’t go unnoticed as he fumbled with something behind his back, a wanton smile smirked on his lips.

You smile, adjusting the book from your lap and rubbing the pressure from your eyes, “a gift? Ed, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Didn’t have too,” he charmed, moving closer into your space, his jeans tickling the tips of your toes, “but… I wanted to.”

“Should I close my eyes?”

He chuckled, “sure sweetheart, hold out your hand,”

Your eyes shut tight, eyelashes squishing against your cheeks as you giggled, “why am I nervous?”

He stared at the rubber eraser shavings that clung to your bottom lip. The graphite on your fingers, a small hole in your jeans atop your knee, showing a smooth expanse of skin that he itched to touch. You had captivated him since the day you crossed his lazy stare in the lunchroom, and he thought of very little else.

He could still hear your squeals when you opened your eyes and saw the delicate ring in your palm. Still feel the way his heart raced when you jumped up and hugged his middle, squeezing him tight against you, the smell of your hair filling his nose with notes of strawberry, or was it peach?

He didn't realize he had the ring fisted in a vice grip until he felt blood in his palm, salty tears collecting in the thickness of his mustache, his lip quivering.

They’re wiped away in haste at the sound of a police cruiser. The familiar scent of thick gasoline exhaust and a camel cigarette follow with the squeak of his driver's door and release of weight on the suspension.

A towering frame crowds the sun from Eddie’s brow. A thick mustache sits square on an egg shaped skull, sunken cheeks replace a once plump face. But the drawl and cigarette smoke are welcoming just the same.

“Hey kid.”

—

Eddie was nervous.

The time you two had been spending together was making him feel giddy. You hadn’t kissed or so much as held hands yet but the air between you both had become filled with dense clouds of lust induced tension— it was hard for him to see straight.

He didn’t know if you felt the same, or if you only saw him as a friend, but tonight was the night the boundaries would cross, and he stood armed like a Paladin, ready to conquer his toughest quest yet, you.

Ice had built up on the broken concrete steps to Eddie’s trailer and your slick bottomed converse hit the glassy surface just right for you to slip backwards, falling into strong leather coated arms.

“We gotta stop falling into each other princess,” he chuckled, holding you tight with hands wrapped around your waist, “gettin’ too old for this nonsense.”

His scent invades you, encompassing you with hints of camels, a stick of big red gum, and starch powdered deodorant.

Your laugh bubbles out of your throat like a giggly champagne, “damn, you got me, totally do this on purpose, insurance claims. All the rage nowadays.”

He buffers for a bit as you tip forward on your feet and spin to face him, one step higher than he stands. “Only kidding,” you tease, grabbing his chin with icy fingers.

His doe eyes stare into yours, lost in the way you made his heart skip and his bones feel like jello, blood ablaze. He’s searching, searching your face for a giveaway— a sign.

And it happens like clockwork.

Your hands rest on either of his cheeks, thumb sweeping softly over the creamy silk of his skin, an audible sigh slides from his throat, followed by a giggle slipping from yours before your voice narrows to a whisper, “lighten up Munson.”

The salmon tone of his lips have gone more cherry colored in the cold, a little chapped from the frigid temps. Not the usually pinkish orangey hue they drew in warm light when he flustered over History notes and Chemistry study cards.

The apples of his cheeks were rosy like a cherub on a Valentine’s Day card, glittered with fancy text swirling of “Be Mine?”

Coal eyes shone with the bright overhead light from the trailer park. A deer caught in headlights.

Eddie was handsome in a way nobody in Hawkins was. A mane of curled brown locks, eyes to match. He was affectionate, easygoing, and you loved him the minute he crashed into you a few months ago.

Hands still on your waist he pulled you towards him, “Can’t,” he breathes, almost silently, a huff of air between you now, “not when I’m around you, never around you.”

Your fingers tangle together around his shoulders, braided in the hair at the nape of his neck, he shudders at the temperature change on his skin.

A quirk in your brow you tilt your head and wet your lips, “why’s that?”

He joins you on the crowded step, taller than you, peering into your face, heavy hands still on the waist, “for months, haven’t been able to think straight when you’re here,” his hands rub on your lower back making lazy circles under your coat with his blunt nails.

“Hmm..” you tease, twirling a curled lock of of the hair framing his face between your fingers, sultry eyes looking up at him in thick eyelashed innocence, “wonder why that is?”

The opening he was looking for, boundary lines down in overgrown grass as if he rolled a crit hit to whatever creature stood in his path was laid out for him.

His forehead comes to rest on yours, surprisingly warm in the cold, his nose like frost as it slid beside your own, bumping and sharing one breath.

“ ‘cause I’m crazy ‘bout you,” he finally admits, heart loosening, unrestricting, “and I can’t stop thinking what your lips would feel like with mine.”

He feels your smile on his mouth, the bated breath you’re holding teasing his tongue, “find out,” is all you can get mutter before his lips press gently to yours.

—

Hawkins was a few hours drive, longer yet after stopping at the nearest diner for a burger and fries. After staring at a menu for more than Hopper’s liking he ordered for himself and Eddie.

The coffee came in white ceramic mugs, the waitress setting them down in the designated spots that were already stained with rings of taupe, years of wear.

“Wayne’s all set up in a new trailer, living high off the hog or whatever he said during our weekly check-ins.”

Eddie ate in silence, chewing slowly, eating but not really tasting. What was freedom if you weren’t a part of it?

He’d be the first to admit that he talked to you when he was stressed. When he thought he couldn’t shut his eyes without seeing the horrific beings that crawled upside down from our world, he turned to your voice, feeling you wrap around him gave him a sense of hope.

“It’s not in Forest Hills, somewhere a little more private, government owned land.”

Eddie sipped at the bitter coffee, taking the burn in a big swig, letting it hurt. Nodding along as he watched his reflection in the dark cup.

—

Kissing you was like being able to breathe underwater, like the 1986 New Year’s fireworks over Lover’s Lake.

He kissed you at your door before school when he showed up every morning to drive you. He stole more kisses in his van, cursing the 8:15 bell, his hands on your waist pulling you further into him.

Standing by your locker, he kissed your cheeks as you dug for textbooks. He pressed his lips to your ear in the lunch line, making you squirm.

He kissed your shoulder when he sat behind you teaching you to play his guitar. Pressing the delicate pads of your fingers into the strings to play each chord with ease.

He’d groan into your neck, while pressing you into the couch, nipping your skin until his lips were raw.

“Where have you been my whole life?”

Your fingers are entwined in his hair, pulling his weight further into you, your legs wrap around his waist, “led astray, lost, so lost.”

He leans up, dark curtains of hair dangling into your face from your position on the saggy couch in the Munson living room.

He smiles a toothy grin, dimples breaching, “good thing I found you then, baby,” he sweeps a rogue eyelash from your cheek, “can’t escape me now.”

“wouldn’t want to even if I were dead.”

—

“Nope, hasn’t said a word, how do you know he can even talk?”

Owen’s sighs on the other end of the receiver, “he’s tough, but he’s been through a lot, needs time to recover, find out who he is again.”

Hopper takes a long drag of a cigarette, “yeah, don’t know about that one doc, he’s mute.”

Short trimmed nails scratch at a tuft of curly white hair, stationed somewhere in Nevada, “Alright, just get him home, I’ll call the uncle and let him know.”

—

Hugs lingered. Kisses deepened. Bodies pressed to one another in a staticky velcro of magnets, unable to peel apart.

Things were hot and heavy between you and Eddie. Smoky, tingly, a fog that had your blood pulsing places you didn’t know was even possible. You didn’t want to be apart, aching to explore every inch of him.

And he felt the same.

Together you set the plans into place.

He purchased the condoms, made sure his favorite mix of the slowest metal music he could find was ready to go. He washed his bed sheets and lit a dust covered candle.

You had done your own routine, showering and thoroughly scrubbing every surface of your skin, lathering a thick lotion on your body, and planting perfume in the direct places Cosmo described as, ‘irresistible’.

It wasn’t his first time. But it was yours.

Running his fingers through his bangs once more he took a last meticulous look around his room, crossing the trailer to answer the front door, where you had knocked quietly.

You were gorgeous, standing in a pair of light wash jeans and a buttoned red sherpa coat. A bag over your shoulder.

“There’s my girl,” he cooed, holding his arms wide and embracing you in his signature bone crushing hug. His lips found yours in a fevered second and he walked you backwards inside, flipping the deadbolt as he kicked the door behind him.

The duffle bag travels from your shoulder to his arm and he breaks away from your tempting lips. Holding your shoulder he pulls you into him, looking at you as he leads you to his room.

“Got everything you need? Toothbrush?”

You smile a little nervously, “check.”

“Okay, pajamas?” he inquires, “could wear mine if you wanted, you’d look pretty damn cute in my Garfield pants.”

“Packed and folded last night,” you say, tickling

his sides, “you were on the phone with me when I did it.”

He stops before crossing the threshold to his room, hands gently pressed to your cheeks, looking into your eyes in a serious manner.

“Are you sure? Like really sure?” his brows knit into concern, “I want you to be comfortable with this.. with me.”

You tug his shirt with a pinched grip, at his waist, staring back into his eyes, the truth on your tongue.

“I want you.”

—

Gravel spits up from the rubber tires as Hopper’s cruiser pulls off onto the secluded road. Eddie’s head hits the window hard with a thud, waking him from a dream.

“Home sweet home, kid.” Hop grunts, cranking the vehicle to a stop after traveling down a long twisting driveway thick with bordering trees and miles of woods on either side. A safe haven for a man deemed dead.

He could make out the taillights of his van, nestled in the tall grass beneath a willow tree, obscured from view. Wayne’s trusty Ford under the carport.

The overcast sky splayed a gray color against the new Munson home, and sitting on steps that weren’t broken, was Wayne.

The passenger door releases with a groan, and he inhales the fresh scent of dirt and summer grass. Finally, he feels like he can breathe.

Wayne’s familiar thin lipped grin is spread wide on his face, smoke lingering from a cigarette in an ashtray. His wet eyes gleam at the boy he once thought was dead, as he stands to greet his nephew.

“Hardly recognized ya with that short hair, Ed, and that beard?” he says rubbing a weathered hand through his own scruff, “givin’ me a run for my money son.”

He hadn’t seen his uncle since that friday morning in March. Unbeknownst to them both, in 15 short hours a cheerleader would die gruesomely in their living room, sprouting a world of chaos and demons, destruction, uncertainty and more carnage.

Hop had explained to Eddie that Wayne was compensated generously for his grief by the United States Government. He was told the ins and outs of what had happened and where Eddie was, and perched on land in a new house, he was told to wait.

—

Spring had sprung, the hard winter that seemed like it would never end was finally seeing its demise. March brought promises of new growth in the soil, and warmer days ahead.

It was a typical Friday, besides a morning pep rally for the laundry basket team after winning an important game the night before.

A pep rally you never attended.

Your back was pressed against the bathroom stall, skirt rucked up with the help of Eddie’s hand.

“We’re… gonna… get caught.” You rasped out between kisses.

His other hand was interlaced with yours high above your head, “probably,” he teased, tongue licking into your mouth, “it’s worth it though? Yeah?”

His hand travels further to the cotton waist of your panties, dragging them further and further down your thigh, his lips assaulting your neck, vibrating with your delicate moans.

“For you?” you question, hooking an arm around his shoulder, as your panties hit the ground, “always.”

He smiles into your lips as he pushes into your warm center, taking the breath from your lungs as you adjust to him, ass cheeks cold on the metal siding of the stall.

Your legs are wrapped into the crease where his elbow meets, his cock dragging in and out languidly, mouths hung open and tasting each other's ecstasy as your eyes drink one another up.

“Swear I’ve never, ever had someone like you, baby,” he gasped, bangs frizzing from being wet from a morning shower then covered in sweat.

Hips pistoning into you, he can feel your walls clench and tighten, your breath choked before you release, saying his name as if it’s the only word you can make out.

He cums hard. biting his lip and burying his face into your neck, “I love you, fuck I love you.”

It was the first time he had said it. He had known it for months, but today in the girls bathroom skipping a pep rally he could give a shit about, he figured it was the perfect place to say how he felt.

He’s still inside you when you say it back, spend leaking from you and onto the tiled floor. Your own eyes wet with the happiest of tears because no one has ever said that to you, not like this.

But this gorgeous man, in all his reputational flaws that didn’t mean shit, loved you. And you had never felt more emotion flooding through you all at once.

“I love you too, Eddie.”

—

Hopper didn’t stay for supper, patting his barely there belly and saying the missus was expecting him home tonight. He tipped a felt hat goodbye to Wayne and to Eddie, telling them to call if they needed anything.

He still hadn’t spoken, only nodded and waved curtly as the red tail lights danced down the tangled web of a driveway.

“Gonna make pork chops if you’re interested,” Wayne chirped, holding the door open for him as they climbed the same number of steps, “learned how to cook, can y’ believe that?”

He smiled softly, carrying his envelope of release papers and setting them on the table.

Everything from the old trailer was ruined. His guitar, all the band equipment he had stored in his room, the mattress that held more memories with you in them that he’d never get back— all gone, burned to a rancid fiery crisp when the fourth chime rang and Hawkins spread open like a festering wound.

The only thing he had of yours was the small bat ring with a sapphire stone.

Ten dollars in quarters at a shitty pizza place. He should have given you something real.

—

“.. yeah yeah and I was full of shit then,” Eddie grinned as Jeff and Gareth teased him about his graduation timeline. “This is my year, I can feel it.. ‘86 baby!”

He was always a flare for dramatics, dungeon master or not he amped it up for the freshman, acting like DnD was life or death, as if the cult of Vecna couldn’t be missed.

To be fair, he spent months on this campaign, late nights plotting and scrawling into a binder as you sat behind him, playing with his hair.

French braids then pippy styled pigtails, a cute bun on the top of his head with little hairs sweeping against his forehead and at the nape of his neck, perfect curls.

“Ten bucks says Wheeler cries when Vecna makes his return.”

“You think?”

“Definitely.”

Shoving Dustin and Mike with specific instructions to find a replacement player for Lucas, he sits down to his measly little lunch, leaning over to your space and whispering so only you can hear.

“After Hellfire tonight you wanna come over? Wayne bought a frozen pizza and I heard that Family Video finally got some good horror flicks in.”

Stealing a pretzel from his fingers you nod your head yes, “ I’ll get the movie, meet you at the trailer?”

The rest of the day dragged on. One boring class after another, students excited for the upcoming game, teachers unable to keep the roar of amped up Jocks under control, but alas the last bell finally rang. Releasing Hawkins High for Spring Break of ‘86.

Some kids went on vacation, others hunkered down with their friends. And some never made it back to school when classes resumed.

Walking down to his designated selling spot at the forgotten picnic table in the woods, he could have never imagined the trouble he’d be in just seven hours later.

—

Pork Chops seared in a pan with some butter and a chopped onion, Wayne had the news playing on the small tv in the kitchen, listening for the weather report.

The trailer was identical to the one lost to the rotting flesh of the Upside Down. Newer, and a damn sight cleaner, but the layout was exactly the same, except for an added bedroom with an attached bath on the opposite wall of the living room.

The filthy hat collection was replaced by odd cowboy decor and small wolf figurines. Eddie paced around the living room, touching the knick knacks that someone else had picked out not even questioning whether or not Wayne enjoyed this kind of stuff.

He had shown Eddie to his room, a navy blue carpet stretched across the floor, a queen sized bed against the back wall. New new new. Everything was foreign to him.

He would miss the heavy creak of a dresser drawer that didn’t shut properly, his closet door that fell off its track years before. Hell, he’d even miss the itch of the green wool blanket he kept on his bed in the winter months.

“Got your own bathroom too,” Wayne said cheerfully hovering in the doorway, hand rubbing the knob as he stared at the floor, “figured you’d wanna shower ‘fore supper, so I laid a towel out.”

Eddie turned his head nodding while he poked at the too soft blanket folded on his bed.

“It’s good to have you home, Eddie.” Wayne said, finally looking into his nephew’s eyes, “didn’t feel the same without you.”

Wayne wasn’t a coddler, he didn’t want Eddie to feel like he couldn’t be trusted, so he turned to leave, “shower’s got real good water pressure.” He takes a glance back at Eddie, and looks around the room before pulling the door shut behind him.

“Thanks,” Eddie mumbles, turning away at the last second, avoiding the piercing color of Wayne’s eyes before they could break him down.

—

Ten o’ clock on the dot your car crunched onto the dusty driveway of Forest Hills. Eddie’s van wasn’t parked out front yet, but thankfully the Munson trailer was never kept locked.

The trailer smelled of old smoke and musk from two hard working men. Even if the laundry was never caught up, and greasy wrappers from a quick bite of a burger littered the counter— Eddie’s home was comforting to you.

You didn’t have to fumble around for the light switches anymore, walking in the dark you knew where the table could connect with your hip if you weren’t careful.

Ten steps from the kitchen, down the hall was his bedroom door, five steps back led to the bathroom. He had cleared a drawer for you to keep your clothes in, socks, extra pajamas, some of his favorite pairs of your underwear lived in the top drawer on the right.

The mirror on his dresser held a collection of pictures of the two of you from the photo booth at Starcourt Mall, movie ticket stubs, and the mint condition guitar he kept sacred.

A yawn escapes your tired mouth the warmth of a shower calls to you.

Grabbing a towel from the cabinet, the water sputters under the shower head as it always did, and familiar music floods your ears from the thin walls outside.

—

His reflection is gaunt, different than the last time he looked at himself, the night he struck the mirror in disgust.

He’s too happy to rid himself of the swamp smelling clothes that itched and scraped his skin. The lick of a flame would do them justice, good riddance to the worst time of his life.

The shower is bigger, the head double the size of the one he grew used to. The spray of scalding water hits his head like magma. Burning his flesh, washing away months of isolation, stale air, and stiff clothing.

The water released muscles in his back that had grown crimped from the thin cot he curled himself on. His fingers ran through the shorter length of hair on his head, just above his eyebrows realizing it now was long enough to drip water into his eyes.

He didn’t check the labels before rubbing whatever soap or shampoo it was into his skin, but the slide of it onto his pale and gummy mauled scars felt like butter on toast.

Registering the faint scent of a stixky sweet fruit he couldn’t determine if it was strawberry or peach, but the concoction had him clutching his chest, unable to breathe.

It smelled like you.

You. His best friend.

You. His first girlfriend.

You. The only person he has ever loved— so intensely, it killed him.

You you you.

His gem. All sapphire blues with depths beyond comparison to anyone else who simply peaked on the surface.

Gone.

“Ready whenever you are!” Wayne knocked on the door, “pork chop ain’t no good cold.”

He wipes the tears from his eyes. Regulates his breathing with labored intakes. And finally admits the thing he couldn’t for the past six months.

“She’s gone.”

—

“Sorry for the mess, maid took the week off.”

“You live here alone?”

Murmured voices are muffled under the rush of water from the shower, “Eddie?..that you?”

Shuffled steps get closer and the bathroom door swings open, Eddie’s eyes are wide, wild with excitement as they roam over your form.

He licks his lips, stalking towards you in a lazy manner with dark hooded eyes, “prettiest girl in the whole world in my bathroom?” His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into him, a breathtaking move leaving you giggly as his hand caresses your cheek, “hope you’re naked under these clothes.”

He presses his lips to yours in a chaste kiss, dipping you low and swinging you back up, he tastes like Mountain Dew and lingering hints of nicotine, spread with a wicked grin.

“I missed you, handsome,” you say, pressing your lips to his again, “so how was it? Did Mike cry when Vecna came back?”

Eddie barks out a laugh, rubbing his hands together, “think I might’ve seen a single tear fall, but they defeated him— crit hit by Sinclair’s sister.”

“Really? That’s.. impressive!”

“It was… shit, I’ve never been more proud of those little assholes.” His smile fades and you know he’ll miss being DM for them next year.

“Eddie?” A small voice asks from the living room.

Your brow quirks in question and he looks at you voice whispering low, “Chrissy Cunningham wants to buy ketamine.”

“What?!” you whisper back face struck in shock, “seriously?!”

Eddie nods, eyes wide in almost disbelief himself, “wanted a half ounce at first, but then said she needed something stronger.”

Your face pulls concern, honestly astonished that someone who seemed so prim and proper would want something like that. Eddie didn’t sell k normally you’ve been with him on multiple occasions and the only thing that was consistent with your peers of Hawkins High was weed.

“Do you even have it?”

“Dunno” he shrugs, lips in a frown, “told her I did because it’s an easy thirty bucks, but I could just crush up some tic-tacs… she wouldn’t know the difference.”

“Eddie? Did you find it?” Chrissy calls out in a nervous pitch.

“I can talk to her while you find something?”

“That’d be great,” he kissed you once more, lips buzzing, “two minutes!” He practically skips to his bedroom and shoots you a wink. Leaving you in a flight of butterflies lining your stomach. Helplessly in love.

—

Inhaling the hot cooked meal that didn’t taste like warmed up roadkill, Eddie sat in silence in a clean pair of clothes that weren’t his, listening to Wayne talk about what he’d been up to since they had last seen each other.

He burned with questions, needing, wanting, aching to know but the only thing he could blurt out came choked and almost suffocating on the use of his vocal cords.

“I need to see her.”

Wayne simply slurped his iced tea, setting the glass down heavy on the oak table, ice shifting. “Figured you would… want me to drive ya?”

Eddie swallows hard and shakes his head, “I need to go alone.”

With instructions from Wayne on the less traveled roads back to town, Eddie’s van sputtered to life in a cloud of backfiring smoke. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the passenger seat, he knew what would be there, and what wouldn’t.

Nothing was the same. Not anymore.

—

The boat floor was cramped, quite literally packed like sardines in a can, you were somehow lulled to sleep by the sway of Lover’s Lake waters and the even breathing of Eddie’s chest.

Your head tucked beneath his chin, he wrapped his arms around you as tight as he could without crushing your bones.

Rick’s offered little comfort for an empty stomach outside of a moldy fruit bowl, an expired beer and a singular can of spaghetti o’s. But you were both safe for now. And that’s what mattered.

The kids, Steve Harrington— of all people— and Robin promised food and any information they could find without seeming suspicious. He was gracious for their companionship, needing something to keep him busy while trying to hide his own slip to insanity from you.

Your tears were endless, soft and steady one minute and the next you were wrecked, in a choked fit clinging to him for dear life.

Eddie’s mind played on replay of your trembling screams when Chrissy’s bones snapped like twigs and her eyes vacuumed out of her skull. Vecna, a made up character that he had been obsessing over for the past couple months for DnD was real.

Killing teenagers for what? World domination? Eddie and yourself were the ones on the run, knowing all too well how a dead cheerleader in his trailer would look to any cop with half a brain.

He’d run forever if it meant not losing you and killing Vecna for good. Everything he had ever known, books of fantasy and creatures that he drew for campaigns, it was all real, and these kids have been fighting it for years now.

The sound of tires crunching on the driveway had his ears perked like a guard dog, followed by three slamming doors. Instructions were given, and he could only imagine that whoever it was was in Rick’s house and it was only a matter of time before they noticed the boat house just like Mayfield had.

The walkie talkie Dustin left was clutched in his hand, you were both fucked, and needed help— now.

—

The Roane Hill Cemetery was eerily foggy, dew coated the hot blades of grass from the sweltered heat. Wayne drew a map on what section you were in. Apparently the number of people lost in the “earthquake” were in the upper digits now, and they were running out of land to bury the deceased.

Those not recovered were given markers slotted into the ground with accompanied by silk ribbons to symbolize hope. They were nestled up under a thick tree line, complete with a wrought iron fence.

He bubbled out a laugh when he crossed by his own empty grave. The headstone was covered in graffiti of wishes to burn in hell. Typical. His death date marked as ‘March 27 1986’. But that wasn’t true.

Lots of people passed that day when hell itself opened a crimson quaking flood. but not him. Although he wished he had.

Pushing forward, he knew had to be close now. The air was thick in the foggy whiteness— blinding him. A high pitched croak screeched from the sky, and he stumbled backward, landing on his ass with a wet thud, a spattering of grass grown wild in tender dirt.

His chest cavity sunk in, gasping for breath but coming up empty. Each threatened choke chipped away at him as his fists tore at the soft ground.

His girl. His gem. Laid to rest.

—

The Winnebago rocked on uneven suspension as Steve winded down the Indiana highway back to Hawkins. It was eerily quiet. Even Robin was silent, planning her mission in her head? You couldn’t be sure.

Tightening the bandana around Eddie’s curls you ask him if it feels okay.

“Yeah, course.”

Days of running. Hours of growling stomachs, unable to keep down food— you prayed this plan of Nancy’s would work, that Max would be able to lure Vecna with her vulnerable mind, that Eddie could distract the bats long enough to have the others attack his paralysis ridden body—it had to work— right?

Eddie sits and pulls you onto his lap, adjusting the spear made by the same eleven year old girl who defeated his campaign a few nights before. Erica, you learned, was a warrior.

“Nervous?” you asked throwing an arm around his neck and whispering into his ear.

He shrugged nonchalantly, “little worried.”

You believed in the plan, in the younger kids, in Steve Nancy and Robin who had been fighting stuff like this from a different dimension for years. They were trustworthy and intelligent.

“It’s gonna work babe,” you encouraged, stroking his cheek, “we’ll clear your name, graduate, and then leave this hell hole, together.”

He looks at you with strained eyes, wetter than usual, “you and me?”

Staring back at him you press your lips to his in a gentle kiss, “forever.”

—

He laid there until the sky turned to ink. Speaking to you in his head, knowing in his deepest of hearts that you could hear him. Telling you how he had missed you, how your beautiful smile played like a film in his brain. How he loved you. and hours have told you sooner, more, every day.

He told you how he wished he was gone too. Would you like that? It could be so easy to do.

Tracing his fingers over the formal font of your engraved name. He smirked at the silly spelling of your middle name.

It was comforting.

Eddie hadn’t felt this sense of calm since the day you hadn’t come back to him in the mirror, and he thought whatever magic spell was broken until you reached for him one last time, promising to never leave.

But you did, and he was alone.

Standing upright, he let out a sleepy yawn, “can I come by tomorrow?” he asked, “would you be okay with that?” He smiled, and bent at the knee to press his lips into the stone above your name.

“Oh,” he remembered, fishing your ring from the breast pocket of his borrowed flannel shirt, “look what I found.”

He held it to your stone, “this belongs to you, baby, I want you to have it.”

Placing the small ring on the smooth base of your tombstone, he gets back up, knees clicking like he’s years older than he actually was.

“See you tomorrow, my sweet gem.”

—

The night air shifted on his drive home, blowing a chilling breeze from the north that whipped his hair around his ears. The van struggled on the drive home with each gust that blew against the metal frame.

“Think we’re in for a storm tonight.” Wayne said when Eddie breached the front steps, straightening his arm, “ol elbow’s actin’ up.”

“Kinda cold for September, right?”

“All of a sudden it dropped about thirty degrees, somethin’s a brewin’.”

Wayne had his truck keys wrapped around a finger, “I gotta go check on Miss Pam, her husband died in the uhh.. anyway, she’s not doing well and you remember how those damn lights always went out? I’ll be back after while.”

Eddie grew a smile, “should I wait up?”

Wayne stopped in his tracks, talking around a smirk hiding a laugh, “don’t get smart with me.”

They both share a glance and laugh softly, and Eddie still has a smile even after the rumble of Wayne’s pickup gets carried away in the wind.

He locked up, pulling the vinyl shades and unhooking the curtains, pitching the trailer into darkness right as the rain pelted the window panes.

Wayne must have made his bed when he was in the cemetery. A small radio was perched on a nightstand and after slipping into starched pajama pants, from the fancy dresser, Eddie fiddled with the knob until the faint guitar sounds filled the room.

Thunder grumbled in the distance, but what he heard next was repetitive, growing louder. Shit, maybe Wayne didn’t have a house key.

“Ya know,” he says, walking to through the kitchen to the front door, “you tel me not to wait up but then you bang on the door because you don’t have keys? C’mon!”

The door swings open with a final gust of wind. Mud sloshed on his feet, Rain splattered his face. But that was not a concern.

A beautiful face, covered in Earth. Eyes he hadn’t seen outside of a mirror in months. You wore the same thing he last saw you in, same tattered wear that his Hellfire shirt had, but it somehow looked soft.

“I promised you forever.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson blurb #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #ziggy writes #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst

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psychedelic-ink · 1 year ago

Text

𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊.

DAY ELEVEN OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: cyberpunk au + fallen angel au + “i will keep hurting. i will keep killing. anything to protect you.”

pairing: fallen angel!joel miller x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, romance

summary: you and tess go in to dismantle a cult, neither of you were expecting to find a rugged fallen angel being experimented on.

word count: 5.2k

warnings: possessive!joel, piv, creampie, breeding kink, dirty talk, violence

a/n: this was heavily inspired by miyazaki's on your mark music video! also we're almost add the end babes, only one more to go, isn't that exciting!

Ash sticks to your skin. The air is warm and damp, the scent of it churning your stomach and making you want to vomit. You observe the city as the aircraft inch closer to a particularly fancy and tall building. Purple and blue neons bleed into the night sky, blurring the sight of the stars. Both you and Tess are standing at the edge of the opening, ready to make the jump down below. You look at her and she nods with a fleeting smile.

“Let’s get these fuckers,” she says, her voice modulated as it echoes in your earpiece. “See you on the other side.”

She extends a fist and with your heart still beating madly in your chest, you bump it. Without speaking, she counts down, one finger going down at a time. Your gaze flits between the building and her hand, sweat building at your temples and sliding down your spine. You’ve heard of this place before. A religious cult famous for abducting people and in some extreme cases experimenting on them if they refused to follow the leader’s guidance.

The last finger goes down and you both jump in unison.

Your visor comes down, blocking the vicious wind from cutting your skin. Tess is slightly ahead of you, her helmet also fully materializing around her skull, brunette hair fluttering at her neck. The mission was simple. Go in and arrest who you can find, shoot those who resist.

The two of you touch down on the rooftop of the target building and quickly pull out your weapons. Tess leads the way as you both enter the building through a concealed access point. The interior pulses with a neon-laden atmosphere, where every corner is bathed in vibrant, shifting hues. Holographic information displays punctuate the surroundings, casting an ever-changing cascade of colors across the sleek, polished surfaces.

You and Tess navigate through the dimly lit corridors, guided by the faint hum of machinery and the eerie whispers of cult members echoing through the halls. The air is thick with tension, and every step feels like a potential trap. It almost feels like a labyrinth with the way the halls constantly turn and twist, you faintly hear Tess cursing from underneath her visor. You share her sentiment.

Moving deeper into the building, you finally encounter the cult's followers. They wear a strange blend of traditional robes and cybernetic enhancements, their faces obscured by eerie masks that display holographic symbols and patterns.

The confrontation escalates quickly. They don’t even have any weapons on them yet they jump you, before you can start shooting one of them gets the better of you and knocks you to the floor. Tess is there in an instant, a laser blade to the throat is all it takes for the person to go limp on top of you.

The room erupts in chaos but it doesn’t mean much to either you or Tess. This wasn’t your first mission together, and the two of you had adapted a fighting style that complimented each other’s strengths. The deafening blasts of energy illuminate the room with dazzling bursts of color. Bodies fall, and the cult's resistance begins to crumble.

You press on, determined to reach the heart of this twisted cult. Along the way, you discover hidden chambers filled with bizarre experiments and technology. You take a mental note to come back later on and investigate. The air is thick with the smell of chemicals and the unsettling hum of machinery. Tess makes a sharp turn and you follow, entering a dim room. More cult members attack you, they look like scientists, they fall just as easily as the rest.

“What the hell is this place?” Tess mutters, walking ahead and looking around. A blue hue coats the entirety of the room, the sound of liquids making up for most of the background noise.

You notice a table right in the middle and without a second thought you head towards it, ignoring Tess’s warnings to be careful. Something draws you to it. To him. Your pulse quickens as you notice a man lying on top of the metal surface, eyes closed, seemingly sleeping. His chest is bare, the lower half of his body covered with a thin, dark pair of sweatpants.

He’s beautiful. Rugged features scorned with cuts and bruises, but still stunning. His hair is a mess, lips chapped. He’s barely breathing, a sudden worry surrounds your heart, turns your stomach sour.

“Hey, check it out,” Tess says, walking around the table. Her hand moves over a lifeless wing, feathered and dark as night. You hold your breath, eyes going wide. “Do you think these are real?”

You don’t touch the wings, feeling like it might be disrespectful to the handsome man. You eye them warily and think about all the things these maniacs must’ve done to him. “They look real to me,” you murmur. “What should we do?”

“What do you mean?”

“If we bring him with us surely the government will experiment on him too,” you point out. “He’s been through enough.”

Tess drops the wing and raises an eyebrow, “You in love with him or something?” she shakes her head. “We really need to find you some good dick.”

“That’s not what this is,” you hiss, cheeks burning up. “You know it’s not right. He can stay at my place.”

“And you think they won’t come looking for him?”

“They can’t look for something they don’t know that exists.”

Tess contemplates your words for a moment and you worry this might be where she draws the line. Her kind eyes flit between you and the half-naked man, then her shoulders drop, yielding, she lifts her hands.

“Fine, let’s get this hunk of meat out of here.”

However, neither you nor Tess had calculated how heavy he would be.

“Holy fuck, how much does he weigh?” Tess groans, holding him by the ankles. You had your hands tucked under his armpits, barely keeping him from dropping to the steel ground.

“Maybe the wings add to it,” you answer, short of breath. Using the strength from your knees, you jerk him up so your arms can get a better grip. Sweat beads at your temples and slides down your cheeks. “Fuck—”

“He’s gonna suck your fridge dry,” Tess huffs. “All the gadgets in the world and not one to carry a heavy. . . what is he? A damn bird?” she shook her head. “I don’t think I wanna know.”

“If you could shut up for two seconds,” you say, gasping for air. “This might be easier. Besides, we’re at the door.”

“Oh fuck, we actually are.”

Tess manages to kick it open and you both peer down the rooftop, you hold on to the unconscious man tighter, scared he might fall.

“What now?” you shout from over the wind.

“Now,” Tess says, her gaze meeting yours, she flashes you a smirk. “We jump.”

Despite the multiple rules you’ve broken by taking in Joel—a fallen angel he’d explained when he woke up, much to your disbelief— to your home a week ago, your mornings start surprisingly calm. You have a small apartment and as you head to the kitchen, you watch the trickles of the morning light warming the floors. You enjoy these silent hours in the city. No bright neon light burning your eyes, no constant buzz of huge billboards humming in your ears; just the sun, the soft sound of birds chirping and soft wind carrying notes of clattering dishes.

You fill the kettle with water and place it on the stove, turning the flame on to let it slowly come to a boil. While waiting, you reach for your favorite coffee mug, the one with a chip on the handle that you can't bear to replace. As you retrieve the mocha pot from the cabinet, you notice a slight, fleeting shadow out of the corner of your eye. You turn your head to see Joel standing in the doorway, his wings tucked neatly against his back. He hadn’t been able to open his wings fully yet, his wounds too deep to heal.

A sudden anger simmers in your soul. The things he must’ve endured and all for what? For a bunch of people to feel good about themselves? For the to find out how to be immortal? All of it was absolute bullshit.

You pull out another mug.

His dark eyes meet yours and you swallow, a shudder rolling down your spine, “Good morning,” you choke out, pouring some ground coffee into the mocha pot's filter basket and assembling the pot. The soothing sound of the kettle on the stove fills the room as you watch Joel walk closer, his steps nearly soundless.

“Mornin’,” he grumbles, standing right behind you. His presence frying your nerves and making your hands tremble. “What’s that?”

“Coffee,” you answer. You place it on the stove and turn on the heat. “I’m making you some too. You can try it,” then you turn, eyes going wide upon noticing just how close he is. His eyes bore into yours, observing your soul and every inch of your face. Your eyes trace the bridge of his nose and linger on his lips; so lush. The divot in the middle of his bottom lip entices you to come closer but you hold your ground. “Are you hungry?”

He nods, eyes untrusting.

“Okay,” you say slowly. “I’ll make us breakfast. How are your wings feeling?”

He licks his lips, “Better.”

You nod and look towards the fridge, your lips pressed tightly together. He finally backs away, allowing you to prepare an omelet for the both of you.

Joel silently watches as you crack the eggs and mix in the basil, tomato, and cheese. He watches as you pour two cups of coffee and bring out the plates. He watches as you sit and finally turn to look at him; still standing in the kitchen, watching. . . observing.

“Come sit,” you say and pull back a second chair. “You watched me prepare it there’s no poison in it promise,” you give him a playful smile and you swear the corners of his lips twitch.

He sits and picks up his fork, you cut the omelet in half, sliding it over to his plate, “So since you never had coffee before I didn’t put any milk and sugar in it, you can taste it and if it’s too bitter I can add some.”

Joel picks up the mug, his wings slightly raising in alarm as he sniffs the hot beverage. He raises a brow, eyes meeting yours, “How do you drink yours?”

“With lots of milk.”

“I feel like that defeats the purpose,” he closes his eyes and takes a sip. He smacks his lips slowly, eyes fluttering open to give you a look. “Not bad,” he says. “I like how the taste alerts me.”

“Well,” you answer with a smile. “Don’t have too much of it or you’ll be up all night.”

“Who says I’m already not?”

You stiffen at the words, meant to be a playful quip turn real in mere seconds. Joel seems unaware of the sudden pressure forming in your shoulders, around your spine; he bites into his omelet, moaning at the taste—which adds a whole different kind of pressure. . . mostly gathered between your legs.

“Can’t you sleep?” you ask silently, looking down. “Because of. . . what they’ve done.”

Joel lowers his fork, lifting his gaze in hopes of meeting yours, he furrows his brows upon realizing your downward-looking lips and your eyes that don’t meet his.

“That’s a small part of it,” he says, the soft authority of his tone bringing your gaze back up. “I remember those moments in bits and pieces, they come and go. . . It’s the fall that still keeps me up at night. ”

“The fall from. . . heaven?”

“Yes.”

And that’s it. He continues to eat, continues to drink until all of it is wiped clean in front of him.

“Let me clean your wounds,” you say and stand up from the table. Joel hadn’t been able to fly at all since you and Tess busted him out of that hellhole. He had been reluctant to treatment but realized quickly that he needed modern medicine if he was going to get better. “I’ll be right back.”

When you come back you find him sitting on his usual stool. It was high enough so that his wings wouldn’t drag across the floor. He sits silently, eyes like those of a hawk as he watches you place the supplies on the coffee table. You start by delicately peeling off the old bandages, ensuring they don't cause any pain or pluck a feather. The only sign that he feels any discomfort is the rapid pace of his breathing

You find that you enjoy these moments of vulnerability. Some part of you doesn’t want him to go.

“Sorry,” you mumble, crumbling the old bandages and throwing them to the floor for later cleaning.

His spine straightens, “For what?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t.” a moment of silence stretches between you before he speaks again. “You saved me.”

“Tess did too,” you add, a small smile tugging at your lips. Those two had been butting heads as soon as Joel woke up.

“She told me on multiple occasions that she would’ve left me to rot.”

“That’s how Tess cares.”

“Humans still confuse me.”

You snort and begin cleaning the wound, he winces a bit, “We’re not all bad.”

You’re happy to see that he’s nearly completely healed. His red, wet wounds from before now a tender pink. Your eyes move up to his neck. You’ve always stared at his neck since the very beginning. It reminds you of the columns of old temples that now lay in ruin thanks to the new world. His sun-kissed skin is a temptation, your lips tingling with the need to feel bare skin, wondering if it’s as warm as you thought.

“I don’t think I should bandage up the wounds anymore, they should breathe,” you murmur, your voice coming out hoarser than you thought. “But still, you need to be careful.”

Joel doesn’t say a word but his wings twitch as if they can sense your sinful thoughts. Maybe they do. You have no idea how angel powers work, or if he has any.

He’ll leave soon, you remind yourself. You’ll be alone again.

You don’t know what it is that guides your hand, but you realize in shock that your fingers start to dance along the exposed skin of his nape. Indeed it is as warm as you thought. You feel the way muscles tense under your touch, hear his heavy breathing.

Reality comes crashing in and you pull away with a sudden flinch, an apology ready at your lips—

He’s fast. Inhumanly so. Joel takes a hold of your wrist and pulls you to his lap, you fall sideways with a sharp yelp. The angel doesn’t say a word and tugs your head back, exposing your neck to him. You shudder at the touch of his lips. Whimper at the way he runs his nose down your collarbone.

“I can smell the arousal on your skin,” he drawls and tastes your skin with the flat of his tongue. “I can taste it too. Such a sinful little thing.”

“I—I’m—” You’re what? Sorry? You don’t feel sorry.

“Tell me what you want.”

“You don’t have to. . .”

Joel snorts, “I know I don’t have to. I want to,” he answers, he grips at your shirt and tugs you down while grinding up, the heft of his cock rubs against the swell of your ass. You both groan at the contact. “You feel that? You feel what you’re doin’ to me?”

Your heart leaping, you guide his hand to the waistband of your sweatpants. His eyes flashing with desire, he slips his fingers under the fabric, you shudder at the drag of his fingers between your folds. Joel burrows his face into the crook of your neck, his chest rattling with a growl.

“So wet,” he musters, the pads of his fingers stroking your throbbing clit.

“Now you know what you do to me.”

His wings suddenly stretch out from one side to the other, making him look even larger if possible. Your eyes go wide, lips parting with a soft gasp. You imagine if you stare at them long enough you could see stars.

“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” he breathes, nostrils flaring. He pulls his fingers out and holds your waist in an iron grip. You whimper at the loss. “You don’t know me. This ain’t a game.”

“That’s right I don’t,” you answer. “I only know what I feel. And what I feel, Joel, is something I’ve never felt before. Something that both excites me and makes me want to run and hide because soon enough, I’m going to have to deal with it all on my own. You’ll be gone and I’ll be here, trying to gather the pieces of my bleeding heart.”

You think you might be imagining it, but his wings become a shield, caging you in. His gaze seems almost broken. Distraught. He mumbles something inaudible. Your brows furrow and you ask him to repeat himself.

“My wings are healed. I lied to you.”

You think you misheard him but at the same time you know you hadn’t. You blink rapidly. You don’t understand, how can be healed?

“You can fly?”

“I can, sweetheart.” he pulls you closer, your covered nipples grazing against his firm chest. Your breath catches in your throat. “I lied to you because. . . I don’t want to go.”

“Joel. . .”

“You still want me?” he asks, cutting you off, voice rueful. “I’m selfish. I get what I want and do anythin’ to make it happen. Why do you think I was cast out? Not exactly one of god’s favorites.”

You feel his breath on your skin as he speaks. His voice deep, dripping like sweet molasses. You brush your lips together and his chest heaves, his grip on you tightens, his cock throbbing.

“You’re my favorite,” you whisper.

The dam breaks.

You find yourself bent over the low coffee table, the wood creaking under your weight, your cheek smooshed against it. Joel holds your arms behind your back, rutting against your ass like some wild animal in heat. Arousal pools between your legs and you feel a fresh wave of wetness spreading within the threads of your underwear.

“Do you even know how to fuck?” you ask, hoping to gain some kind of edge despite the obvious difference in strength.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’d be surprised.”

He pulls down your sweats and the heft of his cock weighs heavily between your ass cheeks. Slick gathers between your folds. A soft whimper trembles in your throat. You can’t see him but you can imagine him looking down at you, seeing how desperate and needy you are. Joel parts your cheeks and presses forward, his cock gliding between your soaked tighs. He groan rattles in his chest and you feel the bulbous head of his cock stretching your entrance.

“Oh god. . . Joel. . .”

A choked-out sound drops from your lips as he wraps his fingers around your throat and pulls you up, it’s harder to breathe in this position, your body bent in a way so that your eyes can meet. He kisses your forehead.

“Not god,” he says, thrusting forward and filling you to the brim. Your face goes slack, brows pinching with pleasure and a hint of pain. Your moan is loud and long, your eyes still glued to his. You shudder at the intimacy. “It’s just me, sweetheart. No one else. I’m the only one that get’s to fuck this pussy—the only one that gets to see your face like that.”

You lick your lips and breathe heavily. When you nod, Joel releases you and you fall forward, bracing yourself with your elbows at the very last second.

“Look at you,” he groans, large hands stroking your cheeks. “Do you even know how soft and warm your insides are?”

He doesn’t expect an answer as he pulls back, your body is set a flame, pleasure building and winding you up like a doll. Your thighs shake, he just watches you drown in your lust. He’s intrigued, you think, because he just waits with the head of his cock still inside. You wiggle your ass, hoping for him to move, to fuck you senseless.

You’re reprimanded with a sharp smack to your ass but you welcome the pain, embrace it.

You can’t see it yet you feel it. The vicious drip of his spit on your stretched-out hole. You shiver and your eyes roll back into your skull, his thumb traces where you two connect, smearing his saliva, “J—Joel, please,” you beg but you know it’s futile. He’s going to take you apart only to piece back together.

“You still think I don’t know how to fuck?” he hisses, a cruel taunt you didn’t expect. You shake your head and close your eyes. Another smack follows, prompting the clench of your cunt. He groans.

Joel finally gives you what you want. What you need.

His pace is brutal, fast and hard, desperate, just like you feel. He knocks the air from your lungs with every thrust, the smack of his hips bruising. Joel has no shame in the voices he makes, he groans, moans and fucks you harder, forcing you to be loud with him. When you let out a particularly high-pitched whimper, he covers your body with his own like a blanket and ruts into you. His wings rustle and shake, the tip of it touching your lips before it moves away. You see bright starts when he grazes upon a particularly sensitive spot, your jaw dropping and body tensing. He mouths at your neck, hand sliding between your legs, the pads of his fingers brush against your puffy clit—

A knock. A loud one at that.

The sound startles you both into stillness, and you let out a hiss from under your breath. You’ve forgotten that Tess was going to come by. Apologetically you reach back and manage to squeeze Joel’s thigh, your fingers sliding over the muscle from sweat. Joel understands that this will have to wait but instead of letting you go like you expected, he lifts you up from the coffee table, your back flush against his chest. You both face the door and another knock follows, your body tensing.

“I’m not gonna stop fuckin’ you for no one,” he groans, pushing even deeper. Your head falls to his shoulder and your nipples tight. “She can come back.”

“Joel, she might hear us,” you hiss but make no move to actually stop him. You feel him smirking against your skin. He slowly draws his hips back and thrusts into you—hard. Your body jerks and you cover your mouth last second before a moan can slip out.

“That’s it, just keep quiet and she’ll be none the wiser.”

Tess’s voice calls out your name through the door and knocks again, louder this time. Your eyelids flutter, your orgasm rapidly building from the thought of being caught. If Tess decides to break the door, which you don’t put past her, she’d see you in your full naked glory; your breast swaying with every ruck of Joel’s hips, your face dazed as you attempt to keep your noises to yourself. . .

“You’re so fuckin’ wet—you’re turned on, aren’t you? Filthy thing, you like the idea of your best friend seein’ you gettin’ your brains fucked out?”

You don’t dare answer and instead, you just take it. His fingers toy with your clit, swirling and drawing shapes over and over until your entire body is trembling and your core is tight. Joel’s hips stutter, pacing frantic, “Yes yes yes yes—come for me, sweetheart. I wanna feel you so bad, come on, that’s it—that’s it—”

It happens both suddenly and torturingly slow. Your body locks up and you squeeze around him, gushing and moaning helplessly into your palms. Your nostrils flare. Joel holds you tight, preventing you from accidentally jerking away and falling face-first into the table, you think Tess is still knocking but it soon ends. Your body is quivering, slick dripping, and sliding down his length. He kisses your cheek, then drags his lips down to your neck, sucking the sensitive skin.

He starts to move again, “Joel,” you whimper and he stops, lips decorating your skin with more kisses. “I want you to come inside me.”

You swear his cock swells even more.

“Yeah?” he sounds amazed, almost. “You want me to fill this pretty pussy up?”

“Please.”

“A’right sweet girl, I will, I will,” he bites the tender flesh of your shoulder, hips drilling into you even harder than before. Your brain short circuit. Your poor, sensitive cunt tingling with overstimulation. With every snap of his hips you feel slick gushing from your core and your hands fully drop from your mouth, your body pliant with pleasure.

It doesn’t take Joel long to come undone. He fucks into you one last time and keeps you still on his cock. Another orgasm rips from you at the pressure, his come filling you with violent, desperate spurts. His hips twitch. Joel licks the salt off your skin and then kisses the damp skin. You sigh with relief, hand dropping to your stomach. It feels good. So fucking good for him to claim you in such an intimate way.

“Mine,” he growls, fingers biting into the flesh of your stomach. Again, his wings form a shield around you, trapping you two together.

You smile and thread his fingers with your own, “Yours.”

Note to self, always go to the door when Tess comes over.

But honestly, how the hell were you supposed to know that she came over to warn you?

You’ve seen the text first. You were out on the street doing some quick shopping before you returned home to Joel, however, before you could process what she had written you were surrounded. Familiar symbols of the cult decorated their suits and before you knew it, your vision blacked out.

When you open your eyes once more, you notice that your hands are bound to the ceiling to keep you up. You hear the familiar buzz of the purple binds, much stronger and deadlier than regular rope. The back of your head throbs, an unpleasant pressure behind your eyes, you hiss and look down.

The door opens.

“Where is he?” a man with a white mask asks, stepping into the dingy cell.

You raise your gaze, “Who?”

You can’t see his face but you know he’s angry underneath the cheap plastic. He balls his hands into tight fists and before you know it, his knuckles hit you square in the jaw. You groan and spit up blood.

“Where. Is. He.”

You cough, the taste of iron overwhelming your taste blood. Still, you don’t yield. You look him straight in the eye and force a broken smile.

“Who?”

Joel knew all of it was too good to be true.

The good food, the sex, the woman who loved him despite what and who he was—it should’ve tipped them off that it was only the calm before the storm. The solitude before ruin. He’d seen it many times before, why had he ignored it now?

His eyes narrow and his wings fold, aiding his sharp dive to the building Tess had described. The wind slices at his cheeks, deafens him.

Joel knows why he ignored it.

It was because he was happy for the first time in forever.

He crashes through the glass ceiling, shards of it bursting across the hard marble floor. He sees familiar people in suits covered in symbols. Joel snarls at them, his wings close to him. They’re the same people that imprisoned him—and now they had found the only thing he cared about to lure him into the wolf's den. Well, his capture won’t be easy this time.

He’ll make them pay. He’ll make them all pay.

Joel spreads out his wings and watches the foot soldiers cower in fear. He feels the dark energy pulsing in his palms, adding to his strength, and without a second thought he unleashes it, sharp arrows of darkness spearing their hearts, making them see their worst nightmares before falling.

He kills, kills, and kills. They all feel his eternal pain before they fall, a fall that is much kinder than the one he had to endure. Joel leaves a trail of corpses on his way to you, his heart locked in fear of what might have happened to you.

Joel senses you—your fear, your pain, your hope. He follows those strong feelings. You lead him to a hard steel door, and with the flat of his palm, the door turns to dust.

Joel’s heart stops beating.

You’re strung to the ceiling, your temple caked with blood, your body battered and bruised. You can barely breathe, your lips parting with short gasps.

His rage is sudden and blinding. His shoulders raise with his wings, he sees the other man in the room with you, his gloved hands wet with your blood. The man turns to grab a weapon but Joel doesn’t grant him the favor. In the blink of an eye, he’s in front of him, his hands on his jaw, he forces the snap of his neck, a sickening crack echoing in the small chamber.

He deserved something worse than death for hurting you, momentarily Joel regrets giving him the easy way out.

“Joel,” your voice drags him away from his thoughts, his heart breaks at how soft it is. “Is that you?”

Joel’s wings drop. He realizes his hands are wet with blood and shadows, he shakes the shadows off but the blood remains.

“Joel?” you say again, and this time he snaps out of it fully, making his way towards you. He cradles your cheeks, kisses you deep before shattering the cuffs around your wrists. You sigh when you feel the familiar broad chest against your cheek, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Joel.”

“It’s me,” he answers. “I’m—I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.”

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault. In the end, you got here, didn’t you? That’s what matters.”

He should’ve come sooner. Shouldn’t have waited around for Tess, he should’ve broken into every building and burned this city down until he found you. Leaving the chamber, Joel is careful not to make any sudden movements. His eyes soften, a hard knot in his throat when you nuzzle into him while he carries you away.

“I’ve got you now, sweetheart. You’re safe, you’re safe,” his grip tightens around you. “I will keep hurting. I will keep killing. Anything to protect you. Never again.”

His steps come to a sudden halt as he feels your weak touch on his cheek. Joel looks down in worry but you’re smiling, his chest lightens.

“Same goes for me,” you say, voice hoarse. “They can break every bone but I’ll never let them take you. Never again.”

Joel looks at your weathered body. Humans were always so fragile, so prone to death. You’re nothing but a speck of dust compared to the dangers that lurked in this world—compared to him. But human resilience has always been something that immortals had feared.

He smiles and nods.

Joel firmly believes, deep within his heart, that he is safe as long as you’re here with him.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller au #fallen angel au #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #hauntedhoedown #haunted hoedown

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